


Fortune Favours the Bold

by Araceil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Persona 5
Genre: Adventure, Akira has a hair fetish, Crossdressing, Drama, Dursleys A+ parenting, F/F, Futaba is precious, M/M, Romance, fifth year au, this is not slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 17:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: He gaped at the manager, “Potsu-san quit?” he blurted in shock.The man nodded, looking miffed, “What happened Kurusu? He was one of my best workers and today he just handed his uniform in and said he was leaving, wouldn't even offer an explanation. Did he say anything to you? You were working with him today.”He swallowed and shook his head in bewilderment. “He – didn't say anything to me. We barely spoke, to be honest,” he explained faintly. Was this because of Morgana? He seemed unusually spooked when he saw him, was he maybe afraid of cats? No, Morgana said that sometimes Potsu fed him in the back alley when he was on break and the cat was stretching his legs. So what had set him off? He had seemed fine until – until Morgana......Could he have heard Morgana speaking?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reighost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reighost/gifts).



He was flagging and it was obvious.

Ascending the school rankings at Shujin Academy, holding down four part-time jobs, and maintaining his activities as head of the Phantom Thieves as well as ensuring he actually had a social life as well was _exhausting_. There just were not enough hours in the day to devote to all the things and people he wanted to do and see, not only that but everyone had their own problems and issues that he wanted to help them with, but he just didn't have the _time_. Kawakami-sensei and her guilt money, Ohya-san and her missing friend Kayo-san, Shinya's self esteem and his pushy mother, Iwai-san and his past connections, Ann's modelling, Ryuji's old friends on the track team, Yusuke and his artist block, Makoto worrying after Eiko-san, Futaba's unconsciousness and their looming Medjed deadline, the ever increasing number of requests to deal with people via Momentos. It felt like he was being pulled in a thousand different directions all at the same time, and he could barely breathe through the pressure of it all sometimes.

Which is what brought him to here, and now, fumbling his way through his third shift at the beef bowl restaurant that week and dropping a stack of bowls across the floor, shattering many of them.

He cursed under his breath, immediately kneeling to pick up the pieces, this was the _last_ thing he needed today.

“Kurusu-san, go take five,” Potsu-san told him suddenly, kneeling beside him. Potsu was the only other worker at the restaurant and their last remaining full time employee. Akira hadn't really spoken to him much, they were both pretty quiet guys despite being roughly the same age (he thought, it was hard to tell how old foreigners were sometimes), but Potsu was always busy and didn't really stop to make small talk, meaning it was nearly impossible to get to know him, he was always attending a customer, filling in paperwork, washing up, cooking, cleaning, he just didn't stop. And he had apparently been there long enough to decide that getting to know the ever rotating door of part-timers was pointless. In all honesty, Akira hadn't really tried to get to know him all that much, he was nice enough, but in a distant kind of way as if he was scared to get too close to people. Sure he admired the perkiness of the foreigner's ass in the locker room at the end of a shift when they changed out of their uniforms and headed home (it did seem a little odd that Potsu would always tell him to get home safely instead of have a good evening), but that was about it, he didn't even know his first name. He knew he'd been told that first shift, but had quite forgotten it in the onslought of other information that had been crammed into his head that day.

“I'm fine,” he objected roughly, reaching for a large shard of porcelain.

Potsu covered his hand, stilling it, “Take five,” he repeated softly but firmly, “I don't know what's going on, but you're all over the place. You'll get hurt if you carry on like this. Take five, I can handle it. Wash your face, come back when you're settled,” he suggested, peeking up through wild black hair with alarmingly green eyes hidden behind foggy scratched round glasses.

He realised then that he had never _actually_ made eyecontact with Potsu-san before. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face as someone shouted for another curry bowl, Potsu called over his shoulder that it was coming right up before taking the small handful of large bowl shards from Akira's hands. “Go,” he ordered as he dropped them to the floor, and picked up the few still good bowls to be put back in the wash before getting the broom.

Wearily, and warily, the highschooler got to his feet and shuffled out of the main restaurant, hearing a few of the regular customers asking Potsu if he was alright and getting a generic, “He's been under a lot of stress lately. I hear exams are coming up, probably not been sleeping as much as he should be. Would you like more rice with that?” from Potsu as he cranked his efficiency up three notches and took over the front of house alone.

Morgana nosed his way out of his bag in the locker room, “Hey, hey, you okay? I heard a loud crash,” he admitted as the door swung shut behind him.

He sighed heavily and sat down beside his friend, rubbing his face with a slightly shaking hand, mentally cursing himself for fucking up like that. If that had been on a heist.... he needed to sort himself out before someone got hurt. It was a good thing their manager spent so much time in the office watching TV operas at full volume, he probably saw and heard absolutely none of that.

“Just dropped some bowls,” he finally admitted once he felt less like his bones were going to rattle their way from his body.

When it was just himself working, Morgana could sit on the shelving above the prep counters and be his 'eye in the sky' so to speak, doing the brain work of making sure he didn't forget an order. But when Potsu-san was on shift, he had to stay in the locker room because the other teenager had hawk-like eyes, able to spot dirty fingernails and grease spots on the floor in a dark room at thirty paces. It was kind of alarming. Akira knew he'd never allow an animal into the kitchen, he was pretty strict about food hygiene and kitchen standards, the number of print outs he had been sent home with on that first day was shocking – more so was the fact that his manager did not care if he knew or didn't about allergens and cross contamination, but it was Potsu-san who held him back after closing and took him through it all and explained why it was so essential before telling him to youtube an allergic reaction, because that was the consequences of not doing their job right. Akira had never really thought of fast-food as being particularly dangerous until that rather eye-opening evening. For the record, he never, _ever_ , wanted to see someone in anaphylactic shock in person, more still, never wanted to be the cause of it either.

“It'll be okay, Joker, they're just some bowls. I don't think you'll lose your job over that,” the feline quickly rushed to assure him, worming his way out of the bag in order to crawl into his lap.

He huffed a small smile, rubbing his friend's head, he wasn't scared about his job. Bowls broke all the time. They had another box of them in the dry store and he knew that if the manager hadn't seen anything then Potsu wasn't going to report him – he never reported any of the other part-timers when they broke things.

The door door slid open, “How're you feeling, Kurusu-san?” Potsu asked as he made his way in, bottle of water in one hand and a tray with a medium BBQ bowl with extra vegetables, and a chocolate doriyaki still in its packaging and cool from the fridges on it. He stopped and then stared down at Morgana in Akira's lap, the feline practically flattening himself into his stomach and trying to look smaller. Shit, they'd been caught.

“....Better now for having seen your pretty face,” he found himself blurting out, desperately trying to deflect attention from Morgana with terrible flirting.

The cat groaned in his arms, claws sliding out to prick at his skin, “That was bad and you should feel bad,” he scolded, appalled at his lack of charm. Potsu's eyes widened as he looked down once again at Morgana. The smallest of their thieves folded his ears back worriedly, “Maybe he won't tell on us? He feeds me sometimes out back on break time, so he can't be that bad of a guy. Right?” he asked worriedly.

The other teenager set the tray of food down on the other bench and slowly backed away to the door, “Don't let him into the kitchen,” was all he managed to choke out before he fled the room.

Akira groaned and flopped backwards to lean against the wall behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

He gaped at the manager, “Potsu-san _quit?_ ” he blurted in shock.

The man nodded, looking miffed, “What happened Kurusu? He was one of my best workers and today he just handed his uniform in and said he was leaving, wouldn't even offer an explanation. Did he _say_ anything to you? You were working with him today.”

He swallowed and shook his head in bewilderment. “He – didn't say anything to me. We barely spoke, to be honest,” he explained faintly. Was this because of Morgana? He seemed unusually spooked when he saw him, was he maybe afraid of cats? No, Morgana said that sometimes Potsu _fed_ him in the back alley when he was on break and the cat was stretching his legs. So what had set him off? He had seemed _fine_ until – until Morgana. _ **..**_

...Could he have _heard_ Morgana speaking?

No, that was a bit of a stretch.

And yet....

They still hadn't found the person with the black mask in the metaverse. And no one could understand Morgana until they'd been _in_ the metaverse. Had he been _working_ with the person behind the mental shut downs all this time?

Almost immediately he wanted to hit himself, he was leaping to wild conclusions without evidence, and besides that.... he honestly didn't think Potsu was that type of person. Yes they didn't speak much, but he _had_ noticed how hard the other teenager worked, how he would sometimes let a meal go free to someone who looked particularly down on their luck, how all the left overs they couldn't keep ended up going into his bag but found their way into the hands of a few homeless people he saw sometimes on his way back home. And yes, like Morgana said, he often fed the stray cats in the alley behind the restaurant. Hardly the behaviour of someone who murdered others.

His manager growled in frustration but eventually sent him home with his pay, looking vexed and uncertain as he immediately began to look through his usual pile of job applications, no doubt to find someone to replace Potsu.

He changed, and collected Morgana in a daze, waiting until they were walking back to the station before telling him what had happened. He didn't share his thoughts on the possibility of Potsu being their black mask, it was ridiculous, and not only that, Morgana hadn't listened to anything beyond his quitting, already lamenting the loss of his beef cuts at volume and crying for the young man to come back.

He shook his head in amusement as he descended into the station – and spotted Potsu in his casual clothes rummaging in his bag for his railpass.

“Hey! Look! There he is! Go ask him why he quit! My beef depends on it!” Morgana yelled in his ear, practically crawling out of his bag to urge him onwards to the foreigner.

Potsu must have heard the yowling because he looked up at them the moment Akira took a step forward, and his face drained of all colour.

His friends back in the country always complained about his cat-like tendencies, how he would always nap in summer, that flash something shiny in his general direction and he couldn't ignore it, the staring, etc. Looking back on this _exact_ moment, he could only hang his head in sheepish acknowledgement that they were wholly correct about his feline behaviour.

Potsu bolted, and, unable to ignore him, Akira took off after him.

“AHHHHHH!! Joker! What are you doing?!!” Morgana howled, digging his claws in frantically as he vaulted over the ticket barrier, and chased the teenager down the platform. He was having a lot more luck dodging all the pedestrians than Akira, he was falling behind! “He's jumped the ticket barrier again! He's heading into the underground pass!” Morgana reported from his shoulder, using the extra height to peer over everyone's heads and keep an eye on their target.

He skidded around the corner, dodging a business woman and vaulted the ticket barrier himself, charging down the stairs that he could see Potsu at the bottom of, the teenager glancing over his shoulder once and then taking off again. He was a _speedy_ little bastard, but he ran down into the underground mall and there were only so many exits down there.

“Ah! He's heading up the stairs! Directly in front, past the convini!” Morgana called as he dodged past a group of girls from Shujin and took the stairs three at a time after him, heading into the underground walkway and taking a sharp left at Morgana's instruction, the two of them chasing the head of messy dark hair left again and back out onto Central Street.

That was when they lost him.

Panting and winded as he finally left the underground, he looked around desperately through the evening crowds and darkness.

Morgana groaned, “Damn, we lost him,” he complained, tail flicking in disappointment.

Akira huffed, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration as he panted for breath and coughed a little. Damn. He sighed heavily and began to slog his way back home, doubly exhausted now from the mad run through the streets and disappointed in both himself for being unable to catch Potsu, and with Potsu being so suspicious as to run like that. It wasn't doing the guy any favours against the suspicion now growing in his mind.

Should he bring this up with the others?

 

* * *

 

He took the next three days of evening shifts at the beef bowl place, but Potsu didn't show up again, he had effectively cut all ties with the place apparently. No one had his home address, his phone number, his e-mail, anything. Even his locker was empty, not that he had much in there Akira remembered, just his clothes and a can of deodorant. Not even a photograph of a girlfriend or a family member.

No sign of him on the train platforms either, and he _did_ linger and wait. But with the last train to Yongen-Jaya pulling up he couldn't afford to do it for long. He was forced to put it all out of his mind as he focused on keeping the others calm as their Medjed deadline loomed and Futaba continued to pass in and out of sleep as she dealt with the trauma of having her palace collapse and her persona awaken within such a short period of time. He was both grateful and annoyed it was summer vacation because he could do as he pleased, but on the other hand there was nothing better than school to distract him from his troubles.

Ohya-san had called him begging for more info on the Phantom Thieves, and considering that the Medjed challenge and the current speculation online any article she wrote would get a lot of attention. If he played his cards right and insinuated the right things, they could drum up even more interest, it was always a good idea to strike while the iron was hot and give her something good to work with both before _and_ after a Heist.

He just wished he didn't have to go to the red light district in Shinjuku for it.

It was a good thing he was tall, people didn't tend to look twice at him as he meandered down the streets with his hands in his pockets, just fast enough to have an obvious destination, but not too fast as to appear nervous and thus an easy mark. He still got eyed by a couple of the hawkers in front a couple of the more.... risqué establishments, gauging to see if they could drag him in and drain his wallet before brushing him off. He dressed a little too well to be 'desperate', but not well enough to be 'repressed', and eventually reached Crossroads without incident.

It was quiet as usual before the post-work crowd arrived, Ohya was already pickled and perched at the bar, her back to him as she muttered bitterly under her breath, Lala-san glanced his way as he came in and smirked at him, but her customary reprimand to keep it to a dull roar didn't come. Instead she glanced over her shoulder as one of the doors into the back opened up and a small figure in a dark purple furisode decorated in white and pink cherryblossom patterns, cinched shut with a deep burnished gold obi, long dark hair brushing their shoulders as they carried a large crate of bottles in.

“Set them down over there,” Lala commanded to the unknown girl who made a noise of agreement and knelt down behind the counter.

“Oh! It's you!” Ohya greeted sloppily, finally spotting him in the mirrors behind the alcohol bottles at the bar, “How's my _faaaavourite_ Phantom Thief Fan?” she cheered happily as he took his usual seat.

He thought about it for a second before answering in a way he knew she's appreciate, “Overworked and unappreciated, yourself?” he asked politely, letting her guffaw for a moment.

“Same!” she chirped with a bright false laugh that barely hid the bitterness she quickly washed away with a mouthful of her drink. She frowned down at it and then shook it demandingly, “Lala-chan! Refill!” she crowed.

Lala snorted at her, “You handle this Harii-chan. Show her the bottle tricks you did me and she'll love you forever,” she teased the young girl as she got up, carefully brushing her hands off.

“I... don't think I can do them with these sleeves, Madam,” the 'girl' admitted, turning just enough for Akira to get a glimpse of a familiar face, and a black velvet choker hiding the adam's apple he knew that Potsu actually had. However, unlike him, clearly Potsu actually needed his glasses to see because when he turned to them properly, he clearly didn't recognise or even _see_ Akira's facial features as he bowed politely to them. “What would you like, Ohya-sama?” he asked demurely, playing the part of hostess perfectly. Wow, Ann could take lessons from him on acting, he decided eyeing the way the young man was holding himself and speaking – it was a complete one-eighty from his usual attitude in the beef bowl shop. It was almost shocking how much of a difference taking those glasses off was though he decided, listening with half an ear as Ohya-san listed her demands, a refill for her, and a glass of the same for him.

'Harii-chan' looked at him, green eyes clearly not seeing him. His former colleague was well done up, wearing a shoulder length black wig, delicate make-up with careful contouring to make himself appear older and less foreign, he offered a politely doubtful smile, “Does Sir have any I.D.?” he asked gently, making Ohya scoff and try to wheedle her own way, and get politely, and implacably, shut down.

“I'll just have a water,” he assured him, watching as Potsu frowned a little at the sound of his voice.

“Of... course, sir,” he said before slowly turning away and quickly moving to make the drinks up. He rolled his sleeves up, and that was when he started flipping the bottle, much to Ohya's noisy excitement and appreciation as he made up her drink in as flashy a means as possible. He wasn't even making a cocktail for her, it was purely for entertainment until he slid the glass with her refill over and then poured a glass of water for him. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asked politely.

“How about a phone number so Joker can stop tripping over his tongue?” Morgana sassed from the depths of his bag, sounding both amused and long-suffering.

He nudged his bag not so gently with the toe of his shoe as Ohya started looking around the room wildly, “Did a cat get in here?” she demanded, eyeing the floor as if it were going to attack her.

'Harii-chan' had clearly heard Morgana as well, his face had paled again, and his smile was decidedly fixed as he avoided looking at Akira, “I didn't hear a cat,” he admitted quietly, “Perhaps I should check out back,” he mused stiffly, turning.

Lala waved him down, “I'll go. You don't know your way around the basement that well. If a cat has managed to get down there, I'll find it,” she promised before handing 'Harii-chan' a plastic keyfob, “Front is yours.”

'Harii-chan's face was stuck in that rictus of an expression between professional smile and horrified grimace as he accepted it and tucked it into his obi, “Of-of course Madam. I will do my best,” he promised with a polite bow.

“Maaan, where did Lala-chan pick up a cutie like you?” Ohya-san demanded as soon as the proprietress was out of sight, the door swinging shut behind her, and likely taking all of 'Harii-chan's hopes and dreams with her judging by the look in his eyes.

The plastic polite smile was back, “Madam Lala happened to be the friend of a friend. When I mentioned needing work she admitted that an extra pair of hands would be helpful,” he explained sweetly, still pointedly not looking at Akira who was beginning to get a little annoyed with being treated like wallpaper.

He could ask why he quit the beef bowl shop, or he could assure him that he would do a good job... or he could try to fluster him into making some kind of slip up by flirting – not that it would be a hardship. He hadn't exactly _known_ he was bi, he'd only ever been physically attracted to girls before, but it was kind of undeniable that Potsu-san had an incredible butt, and looking at him dressed up like this was.... very nice. He had thought Yusuke very attractive when he met him, but hadn't exactly been _interested_. Maybe this was just his type?

“Why'd you quit the beef bowl restaurant?” he asked, instead of anything else. Potsu-san clearly already knew who he was, and there was no denying that Akira could recognise him even with the make-up and outfit.

“Eeehh? You two know each other?” Ohya slurred in her usual manner, leaning forward in her chair with a reporter's instincts for gossip as 'Harii-chan's polite smile fell into an uncomfortable frown that he was quick to try and hide behind a sleeve.

Akira nodded, “We used to work at the same restaurant in Shibuya,” he admitted watching Potsu-san carefully.

The young man tried to shrug a shoulder and look nonchalant, “...It was just time to move on,” he explained delicately, “I couldn't afford to stay there, and the hours were no longer convenient,” he explained, _lied_ , while avoiding eyecontact with Akira who felt his stomach drop. So. It really _was_ his fault that Potsu-san quit working at the restaurant.

“People have been asking after you,” he said, watching as his face fell a moment with real regret before he began to busy himself with cleaning behind the bar.

“Maybe I'll drop by on a day when I don't have a shift. It would be nice to be a customer for once,” he added with a painfully false sounding laugh that he hid behind a sleeve.

Ohya laughed as well, agreeing to let other people serve you for a change was the best before demanding another refill of her already empty drink. Potsu-san actually did laugh, a quiet little thing, but did as he was told, once again spinning the bottle through the air before pouring her drink with a smile. She practically chugged it before demanding another, taking the young man aback. Clearly this was the first time he'd actually met Ohya. He repeated what he was doing and handed her another drink which she was quick to try and drain.

“Uhm, Ohya-sama, perhaps you should slow down?” he suggested worriedly, “You'll give yourself an upset stomach like – ”

And predictably, Ohya snapped at him.

“Aww! Shuddup! Yer not my mother! Just keep 'em comin' or I'll write an expose revealing _all_ of Lala-chan's secrets!” she threatened drunkenly, swaying dangerously in her seat. It was the same empty threat she issued when Akira first came to Crossroads, Lala never took it seriously, neither did he, because he knew that there was no way in hell Ohya would ever so such a thing to her bestfriend (he had some suspicions that perhaps Ohya might have had a crush on Lala but didn't know how to approach it). 'Harii-chan' clearly took it seriously if the way he reared back as if slapped, his face spasming in anger for a moment before it settled into a cold expression.

“Very well, Miss. I will add the inevitable cleaning fee to your tab,” he informed her icily before making her up another drink, this time without the spinning bottles which made Ohya wince a little as the glass was set down with a very sharp tap in front of her before 'Harii-chan' went to empty the dishwasher on the far side of the bar away from them.

“Shit. I really ballsed that one up, didn't I?” she complained to herself before taking another mouthful of her drink with a sigh. “I can't catch a break. My publisher doubled my quota meaning I don't have any free time to look for information on Kayo-chan, my mom is on my back about finding a husband, and now I've pissed off Lala-chan's little kitten. Hell,” she bitched under her breath before chugging her drink and rubbing her face.

And then, as predicted, she groaned and staggered to her feet, “Ugh, my stomach. I'll be back in a few.” Before tottering off towards the ladies room. Experience dictated that she would be in there for a while, if she didn't pass out while in there. Normally he would get going but....

He gestured 'Harii-chan' over, “Can I have a juice, please?” he asked politely, watching the other teenager frown at him before sighing and coming over with a glass in hand.

“We have tomato, orange, cranberry, lemon, apple, mango, lichee, melon, and pineapple. Which would you prefer?” he asked stiffly.

“Orange juice.”

“Coming right up,” he said before heading for the fridge to get the carton out.

“You know, you _can_ tell me the truth. Why did you really quit?” he asked coaxingly as the glass was set in front of him.

'Harii-chan' pressed his painted lips together before giving him a plastic grin, “Sorry, you haven't reached the required levels to unlock my tragic backstory,” he declared, flinching as Morgana cackled in his bag 'Shot down in flames!' crowing from the feline.

Levels, huh?

“Then let's make a deal,” he suggested smirking around the lip of his glass, the effect was probably ruined because his target couldn't even see his face, but the tone left little to the imagination none-the-less.

A particularly deadpan expression crossed the foreigner's face, “A deal, huh? Only problem with that is you have nothing I want.”

“Maybe so. But I'd like to get to know you. Maybe once I do, I'll be able to think of something in exchange,” he admitted with as charming a smile as he could. 'Harii-chan' was clearly thinking about it, looking away from him and pulling on a strand of hair from his wig with a conflicted look on his face.

He shook his head and turned away, “I doubt it. You should head home. Shinjuku is dangerous at night,” he dismissed just as Lala-san returned from the basement, huffing and grumbling. She looked between them, the empty glass in front of Ohya's usual seat, the juice in front of Akira, and then sighed deeply.

“How long's she been out?” she asked long sufferingly.

“Only five minutes, Madam,” 'Harii-chan' informed her, “I – she threatened to write an article on you- ”

Lala waved it off, “It's an empty threat sweetheart, she talks a big game, but we go way back, she'd never.” She grinned slyly at her staff who breathed a sigh of relief, “I have too much dirt on her to risk it,” she bragged, prompting an actual laugh from his former colleague.

“Ahh, that explains it,” he said with a grin.

Akira looked away and began drinking his orange juice, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Lala-san chuckled, “Well, I didn't find our feline friend, but I did find a case of sweet potato shochu on the top shelf of the wine rack, think you can pull it down for me?” she asked looking at 'Harii-chan' who straightened up and nodded eagerly.

“Yes, of course, Madam,” he agreed and fled into the back without a backwards glance.

Lala turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look on her face, Akira grimaced at the unspoken demand and continued sipping his drink without answering. Eventually though she sighed and flapped a hand in annoyance, “Fine, if you don't want to talk then listen. I won't let anyone bother Harii-chan, I hear one word of complaint from him about you and you can meet Ichiko out front,” she warned severely before beginning to clean up after Ohya, “He likes practical things and sweets if you're looking for gift ideas,” she added not looking up at him as she took Ohya's glass and tipped the dregs away.

He flushed, “I'm – not – interested like _that_ ,” he managed to get out.

Lala rolled her eyes, “Sure you're not,” she agreed sarcastically before glancing at the clock, “You'd better make a move, kiddo. Shinjuku gets rowdy at night and we're almost at riot hour.”

Glancing at the clock he grimaced and finished his drink, “Thank you, Lala-san, please tell Ohya-san I'll see her again later.” When she pulled her head out of the toilet.

“Travel safe,” Lala told him, collecting his empty glass.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you seriously planning on bringing him sweets?” Morgana demanded from his shoulder in disbelief, he sighed in a bit of disgust, “You're hopeless. It's clear he's not comfortable around us, you should leave him be,” he advised gently, shaking his head and rubbing an itchy hair from his ear.

Akira hummed quietly, privately agreeing with the cat. Potsu _wasn't_ comfortable with him, yet. However, he couldn't just ignore the fact that there was potentially another metaverse user running around – no matter how pretty they were in a kimono – especially when the mystery of the black mask hadn't been solved yet. So, he needed to get close to Potsu and figure out if he was like _them_ , just a kid who stumbled into the metaverse, or if he was something more sinister. Unlikely, but he still needed to find out. They might not be the only people genuinely trying to make a change, if they hadn't had Morgana to guide them, they too might have accidentally killed Kamoshida and caused a mental shut down. There was always the chance that if Potsu _was_ the black mask, he was trying to reform society but accidentally killing people simply because he didn't have the knowledge that they did of a better means.

Or he could be completely unrelated to the killings but related to Morgana's missing memories and Mementos. Either way, he was suspicious, he could hear Morgana, and.... okay, he _did_ want to get to know him better. His curiosity was piqued, and now that he'd seen him all dressed up he was also interested _that_ way – almost every woman he knew was either significantly older than him, capable of breaking him, or Futaba. And dating her would have felt wrong, like he was taking advantage of her given how she was a shut-in.

“Peach or chocolate?” he mused aloud to Morgana.

The cat groaned and dug back into the bag over his shoulder, “Chocolate,” he answered as he got himself comfortable, “He usually had a chocolate bar with his lunch.”

Nodding, he collected the box of sweet treats and went to pay for it before making his way to the train station. Ohya hadn't called him, he was going specifically to talk to Potsu, if she was there he could pass on some gossip and even provide a little extra padding to her alibi with her boss. Thankfully the train wasn't that crowded when he got in, he was able to find a seat and prevent the chocolates from getting smooshed, or melting, or Morgana from getting smooshed, and violent.

Shinjuku was the same as usual, the hawkers, the girls prowling under neon lights, men in business suits with shifty eyes and sweaty palms. He remained unbothered as he made his way to Crossroads and let himself in with a sigh of relief.

“Welc- oh, Ohya-sama isn't here this evening,” 'Harii-chan' told him politely.

“That's fine,” he admitted, feeling his face begin to heat as he took his usual seat and set the box of chocolates on the counter, “I'm here to see you. I wanted to apologise for whatever it was I did to make you uncomfortable,” he explained as he slid them over, an obvious offering.

There was a very obvious hiccup in 'Harii-chan's brain when he processed Akira's words with the box of chocolates and just stared, glass and cleaning cloth held defensively in his hands as a shield. “I – I don't – you – didn't – ” he struggled at least until Lala-san came over and peered over his shoulder.

She nodded and collected the chocolates instead, “I'll put these in your locker. Keep it to a dull roar you two,” she told them before heading into the back, leaving just Akira and 'Harii-chan' alone in the bar.

“I'm sorry if I did anything that made you leave the beef bowl,” he tried again, watching as the green eyed young man flinched and quickly turned away to busy himself with dusting the display of bottles and cups on the mirror shelves behind the bar.

“You didn't,” he assured him, “It was... My rent went up. I really _couldn't_ afford to stay there,” he explained awkwardly, taking all the bottles and glasses off the next shelf and then spraying it with a pink chemical and wiping it all away with a handful of blue roll, polishing the mirror to a shine. Akira hummed doubtfully, his rent went up? He was fairly sure there were laws against raising the amount of rent on a property _while_ the tenant was living there – usually the landlord needed to wait until the current contract expired before presenting a new one with the new rent prices on it to be signed.

“Well, you're very proficient, I'm sure you had no trouble finding other work to cover the cost,” he said, watching as the tips of 'Harii-chan's ears went pink and he hummed unconvincingly.

“Ugh! You suck at this, Joker!” Morgana complained from his bag, and immediately 'Harii-chan's shoulders went stiff under Akira's staring, “Tell him his kimono looks nice, you idiot!”

He had changed up the purple and cherryblossom patterned number from the previous day to a white one patterned with monarch butterflies cinched with a plain deep purple obi. His wig was artistically and carefully pulled up and pinned in place with delicate floral kanzashi, he did indeed look very elegant and cute with his current get up, coupled with the careful make up he was more than able to pass for a pretty young woman.

“It does, you know. You wear it well,” he told his former colleague who shuffled and picked at the sleeves.

“It isn't mine. Madam lent it to me,” he explained, and Akira smirked. Got ya. He was _definitely_ hearing Morgana, otherwise he wouldn't know what Akira was referring to. He watched as the young man wiped down the bottles and returned them to their shelf before moving onto the next one, taking everything off and spraying it down.

“I'm surprised,” he admitted lazily, propping his head up on the bar with an elbow and smiling at him, “Not many people can understand Morgana. They just hear meowing.”

'Harii-chan' froze, “...I don't understand? What are you talking about?” he asked stiffly.

“What!” Morgana squawked from within the bag, immediately scrambling out and onto the bar beside him, and making 'Harii-chan' jerk away with wide eyes. “You can understand me?!” the cat demanded at volume.

'Harii-chan' looked panicked as he turned to Akira, “You brought your cat _here_ as well?! Kurusu, you can't have animals in establishments that serve food or drink!” he objected stringently, ignoring the way Morgana drooped in disappointment at being ignored, or at being referred to as an animal.

He flipped a hand dismissively, “Morgana's human. He's just stuck in the form of a cat,” he explained blandly. He had his _doubts_ about that story, but, with Morgana's memories being so messy, there was very little else that made sense. Shadows didn't have Personas after all. Neither did cognitions as far as he was aware, which ruled out the usual suspects they dealt with while exploring Mementos and palaces.

'Harii-chan' looked between them, and then glanced at the door, as if gauging how quickly he could get to it, and whether or not they would catch him first. Akira smiled at him, “You could understand him. I didn't say anything about your furisode, _he_ did, but you knew exactly what I meant when I said it looked nice anyway,” he pointed out before the foreigner could open his mouth and try to deflect again.

Morgana stiffened and boggled, “That's right! You did! And you only quit the beef bowl shop when you heard me talking! You never had a problem with feeding me before but I never _spoke_ before! Oh,” he drooped sheepishly, “Sorry I never said thank you. I tried, but you always headed in before I finished my mouthful, and a gentleman shouldn't speak with his mouth full,” he apologised.

“We're not going to hurt you,” he pointed out when the green eyed teenager didn't reply but instead gave the door another fearful glance before staring at him in mixed disbelief and terror, “Like I said, not many can understand Morgana. I got curious. It was chance that I found you last time, I was here to see Ohya-san,” he explained.

“I noticed. Something about the Phantom Thieves,” he finally managed to get out, his tone a hair shy of aggressive as he finally unglued himself from the bar wall.

Akira nodded, “I give her information, and when she publishes her articles she puts a positive spin on them,” he explained calmly, inwardly pumping a fist in victory as the other teenager calmed down somewhat. “I'm sorry if we scared you earlier. Talking cats must seem pretty ridiculous,” he offered with a sheepish smile that he knew the other couldn't see.

'Harii-chan' shrugged awkwardly, “My teacher could change into a cat. It's not so weird,” he admitted softly before looking at Morgana, “She couldn't talk though. How did you maintain the human vocal cords?” he asked curiously as he filled one of the nut bowls with water and set it on the counter for him.

Akira gaped, his _teacher_ could change into a cat?!

Morgana drooped, “I don't know. I can't remember much. I can't even remember how to change back,” he lamented mournfully before sticking his face into the bowl to drink as 'Harii-chan' leaned back and tapped his chin, looking conflicted.

“I knew I should have asked her to learn how after Wormtail,” he muttered under his breath before chewing his lip.

“Could you ask your teacher?” Akira asked in hope, if Morgana regained his human form – he might remember more about Mementos, about Palaces, and treasures, and how to help them handle the rotten power-abusing adults around them.

'Harii-chan' shook his head even as Morgana looked up eagerly, “My school is in England. And...” he looked away, “I'm not welcome there anymore,” he admitted quietly before busying himself with polishing glasses that were already gleaming. Akira fought not to wince, that was the exact same facial expression he saw in the mirror whenever he thought about his old school, and the expulsion that went along with it.

“Expelled, huh?” Morgana asked, clearly recognising it, but not understanding enough not to mention it. “This guy too, so don't worry, you're in good company.”

Akira shot the cat a helpless look while 'Harii-chan' eyed at him sceptically.

The green eyed teenager sighed and set the glass down, “Why haven't you asked any of the guilds for help? I know transfiguration isn't exactly a popular topic of study in the East, but surely someone could help you?” he asked as he leaned on the bar.

“Guild?” Morgana asked, which only made 'Harii-chan' sigh.

“Of course, if you've forgotten how to change back of course you'd forget that,” he muttered unhappily as he hung his head, the faint chime of a bell coming from one of the kanzashi in his hair before he straightened up, “Okay. I'm not.... _promising_ anything, but I'll look into it. See what I can find to change you back,” he said slowly, holding a finger up before Morgana could get too excited, “But I'm not promising! Transfiguration is not a popular subject here, finding anything above third year material is difficult and usually in private libraries, I'm only a forth year. And transfiguration was not my best subject.”

“What was?” Akira found himself asking curiously.

'Harii-chan' shrugged, “Defence,” he stated casually making Akira's head spin a little. He... honestly looked like he would lose in an arm wrestling competition to Ann and yet his best subject was defence? Did he mean... theoretical?

Morgana cheered and launched himself at him, “Thank you! Thank you so much! You're the best Harii-chan!” he exclaimed excitedly, rubbing up against his face and smearing all of his foundation as he aggressively nuzzled into the startled bar'maid'.

“S-settle down!” the teenager protested, scooping Morgana up under the arms and plopping him back on the counter, “It'll take a while, and I'm not promising anything! I wasn't lying when I said my rent went up, I don't have much free time so....” he trailed off with a small helpless shrug.

Well, he was already forking over money to listen to Kawakami-sensei complain about her debt money and clean his room, at least this would be more helpful, and it would help them keep an eye on 'Harii-chan'.

“I'll pay for your time. I can't offer much, but I can give you something at least,” he said, making Morgana light up in excitement and affection for him.

'Harii-chan' visibly wavered before he smiled, “That.... I can't really say no, so, thank you. That would be helpful.”

He grinned, “It's a deal then,” he said, sticking a hand out. Foreigners did handshakes, right?

“So it is,” 'Harii-chan' agreed with a small smile and a huff as he reached over to take his hand.

He almost heard the sound of shattering chains and the familiar-unfamiliar feminine voice that filled his ears.

 

_I am thou, thou art I.  
Thou hast acquired a new vow._

 

_It shall become the wings of rebellion  
that breaketh thy chains of captivity._

 

_With the Birth of the Fortune Persona,  
I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new powers..._

 

Fortune huh? He would have to look up what that meant on his way home as he let Harii-chan's hand slip away. He had some weird callouses on his fingers and palm though, all the more noticeable for how soft his skin was, and how cold his hands were.

“So, how about that tragic backstory? Am I high enough levelled yet?” he found himself teasing.

Harry laughed, genuinely, and flicked his cleaning cloth at him, “No! Go on, get out of here before it gets late,” he ordered with a chuckle as Akira collected his bag and ushered Morgana inside.

“Hey, bye Harii-chan!” the feline called from within as he turned to leave.

“Stay safe you two,” he called as Akira saw him waving in the reflection of the door window.

Outside Morgana was practically beside himself, “He's so nice!” the cat exclaimed happily from within his bag, “And he understands me! I can't believe there are other people who can change into cats! Do you think I learned from the same person?” he asked excitedly as Akira lead the way to the train station.

“Who knows, it's a possibility. You said Mementos exists outside of the real world, maybe you were her student in England and got lost there,” he suggested idly as he scanned his ticket and began the trip back to Yongen-Jaya, finding a seat and digging his phone out.

“Hm? What'cha writing?” Morgana asked, peering out of the bag as he keyed ' _Fortune Arcana definition_ ' into the google search. “Oh! Is that what Harii-chan's arcana was?” he asked excitedly. Akira had told him about the strange voice and the bonds he could feel with others that seemed to be influenced by his Personas. Apparently that was normal for Wild Cards like himself, people with the power to summon more than one persona, they didn't power up the same way as normal people like Ann and Ryuji did, they needed to borrow the strength to improve their personas through others. Meaning that now any persona he absorbed from the Fortune Arcana would be stronger just by his being friends with Harii-chan, and that it would be easier for him to get closer to Harii-chan _because_ he had personas from the Fortune arcana.

“The Fortune Arcana, also known as the Wheel of Fortune, symbolises fate, luck, fortune, and opportunity. It is to remind you that the wheel is always turning and life is in a state of constant change. Individuals symbolised by the Fortune Arcana are usually people who attempt to seize their own destiny in spite of fate, and are typically involved with making important choices and decisions in response to what life throws at them. Upright, the Fortune means good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, and a _turning point_. Reversed, it means bad luck, resistance to change, and breaking cycles,” he read thoughtfully.

“Sounds like Harii-chan is a symbol of change for us,” Morgana noted worriedly from where he had been listening to Akira's soft mumbling.

“Upright meanings: If you're going through a difficult time, rest assured that it will get better from here. Good luck and good fortune will make their return in time. Similarly if things are going well, know this, too, will change and life may return to 'normal' soon. This cycle shows why it is so important to cherish the blissful moments in your life and make the most of them while they are within reach – because in a flash they could be gone,” he read, and grimaced at the almost depressing warning. “The Fortune is known as the wheel of karma and reminds you that 'what goes around comes around'. Be a kind and loving person to others, and they'll be kind and loving to you. Be nasty and cruel, and you will receive cruelty in return. If you wish for happiness and abundance, make sure you are sharing that out yourself in order to receive it in kind.

“Upright, it asks you to be optimistic and have faith that the universe will take care of your situation in the best way possible. Meditation and visualisation can reinforce your intention blah blah blah,” he muttered skipping the rest of that paragraph of what basically boiled down to 'let other people handle this'. “Be open to the help of others too, as guidance from both the physical and spiritual realms is supporting you along your journey. They want you to do well, so relish their support right now. Call on them any time you need it. If you are someone who likes to have control and stability, then the Fortune may come as a shock to the system. This tarot card suggests factors outside your control are influencing your situation. It is as though the universe is dishing up whatever it pleases; it's unpredictable and unnerving. This is one of the challenging aspects of the Fortune since no matter which way the wheel turns, it is impossible to try and change it. You need to accept what is happening and adapt. Go with the flow.

“Finally, upright, the Fortune can show a critical turning point in your life. Opportunities you could never imagine are suddenly available to you, and you have the chance to make a significant change in your life. While it may be unexpected and unfamiliar, see this as an invitation to turn things around and take an entirely new direction in your life. The more you tune in to your intuition and allow the universe to guide you, the better the outcomes will be.”

That was very...

Morgana popped his head out of the bag, “That sounds very much like what's going on right _now_ , Joker!” he exclaimed, “This is uncanny! It must be Fate that you met Harii-chan like this! Mreowhahaha! I'm one step closer to regaining my human form!” he cheered happily.

Akira patted him, but wasn't so sure. Those were just the _upright_ meaning of the Fortune. There was also the Reversed to take into account. But... he would read those when he was in bed, when Morgana was asleep.

They returned to Yongen-Jaya, Sojiro-san was already at home so he made a quick stop at the bathhouse opposite, too tired for a soak he scrubbed and brushed up before heading back to the attic and climbing into bed. Morgana was out like a light quickly enough, the excitement of a potential means to return to his human form wearing him out, and as exhausted as Akira was, he stubbornly kept himself awake before grabbing his phone and reopening that tab when he was certain his roommate was out of it.

'When the Fortune is reversed, your luck and fortune may take a turn for the worst. You may experienced unexpected change or negative forces could be at play, leaving you helpless. You have a choice: You can do nothing and hope things will get better, or you can act to improve your situation. See this moment as your opportunity to take control of your destiny and get your life back on track.

'Changing your destiny starts with accepting responsibility for where you are now. Consider what role your earlier actions have played in your present circumstances. Even when you think everything is beyond your control, there is often something you could have done differently that might have changed where you are now. What can you learn from this situation and how can you apply it to your future life do you don't end up making the same mistakes?

'The reversed Fortune can also reflect a resistance to change, particularly if you feel it forced upon you. This card suggests that change has become a source of significant stress, and you may be trying to consciously or subconsciously stop events from running their course. Accept that change is inevitable and you will have a much improved experience when you can go with the flow.

'On the positive side, the reversed Fortune might mean that you are finally breaking a negative cycle that had been present in your life. Perhaps you have realised how your actions have created a repetitive situation and are now ready to break free from the cycle. For some, this flow naturally following a period of introspection and self-discovery. For others, things may need to hit rock bottom before you are ready to see what is no longer serving you (especially if the Devil or the Tower is in your reading).'

Ohya-san was the Devil in his Arcana. Cute Shinya-kun was the Tower.

He met Harii at Crossroads through Ohya. Did this mean he needed to hit rock bottom before there was a big change in his future?

That.... did not bode well for the Phantom Thieves....

Slowly, he closed the tab, put his phone on charge, and rolled over to try and get some more sleep. He had school tomorrow... and he had the feeling Morgana would want them to pester Harii as soon as Crossroads opened as well. To see if he'd made a start.

Well, it would be another opportunity to see him at any rate. Maybe... he should dress nicely? He wondered sleepily before finally passing into dream land.

 

* * *

 

Crossroads was fairly quiet when he dropped by two days later, Mishima had called him up the evening before, and yesterday he had been helping Sojiro in the cafe. The only bright point had been a text from Futaba telling him not to worry about Medjed, but when he popped in to see her that morning, she was still sleeping.

Nothing had changed much when he walked in, drenched in neon reds and pinks, it still made his eyes ache a little until they adjusted. Ohya was sprawled across the bar, the utter picture of misery, Lala attending to her, and on the far end of the bar wearing pale pink and sky blue was Harii unloading the dishwasher and polishing the watermarks away. He received the usual greetings from the two ladies, and a small smile and a wave from Harii before he took his usual seat, and set Morgana's bag down. Catching maybe a brief glimpse of his friend as he slid out and wound his way around the bar to maybe brush up against Harii's legs in greeting, he must have because from the corner of his eye he saw the pink clad teenager kneel down quickly before standing back up, and a moment later Morgana was slinking back into his bag with a scrap of paper in his mouth.

“Ugh, I'm so exhausted,” Ohya complained, her head in her hands, “Thanks to my quota... and that _shithead_ chief.” She sat up and grinned at him, though it looked more like a bearing of her teeth in all honesty, “But I made some progress on my personal investigation. I did some research on the Phantom Thieves. (Akira saw Harii straighten up and slow his polishing in the corner of his eye, paying closer attention now. What interest did he have in them?)” Ohya huffed and leaned on her elbow, “I'm starting to get the impression they're the real deal,” she admitted, “No signs of internal power struggle, no dirty money changing hands... It almost seems as though this recent negative press was fabricated even with their popularity experiencing the biggest boom yet. And yet there's no proof to any actual claims against them.” She looked at him thoughtfully, “And you're still a fan, right?”

He nodded, he was possibly the biggest fan. The others were all incredible people, he'd fight anyone who spoke badly of them.

“Honestly,” Ohya complained grabbing her drink and taking a mouthful, “the more I get to know about the Phantom Thieves the better I understand them...” She sighed making Akira tilt his head curiously, “I can relate to their sincerity. They remind me of how I used to be...” she admitted, “I already know firsthand how fighting the evils of society is a never-ending thankless job... But I still do it none-the-less. I bet the Phantom Thieves share that same passion.”

Lala giggled happily, “I never thought I'd hear _you_ talking about passion, Ichiko-chan,” she teased with a sparkle in her eye. “Maybe all this talk about the Phantom Thieves has influenced you. Or maybe, it's just the kid,” she added slyly, glancing at him with a smirk.

Oh no, he had absolutely _no_ interest in a grown, alcoholic, woman! Especially a reporter! That way was just _begging_ for his real identity as the leader of the Phantom Thieves to be uncovered! Did he look like an idiot?Besides, as charming as Ohya-san's enthusiasm was, he much preferred Harii's general... well everything now that he thought about it.

“Maybe...” Ohya sighed, “I mean, he's a pretty big fan of theirs, so...”

Her phone went off, saving him from having to think up something good to defend himself as he shot a wounded glare at Harii who was busy snickering into his cleaning cloth, the traitor.

“... _What?!_ ” the reporter gasped, suddenly sitting bolt upright in shock. “You found Kayo?! ...Where is she? ... _What do you mean you can't tell me?! Why the hell not?!_ ” she suddenly snarled, her face twisting in fury, “Hey! What's going on?! Wait- ” she pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it in furious dismay before slumping, “Kayo...”

“Could it be...” Akira trailed off in astonishment. Just when it looked like her investigation was doomed with that ridiculous quota, suddenly, this. Kayo is alive, but no one would tell her where. Why even tell her then? Either it was cruelty or guilt, or the first step on attempted extortion.

“That was one of my journalist friends,” Ohya explained dully as she tucked her phone away, “I had him following up a pretty far-fetched string of rumours for me, but now he's saying he doesn't want to be involved. _Damnit_ , why won't he tell me what the hell is going on?” she hissed, glaring down at her knees, and her scarlet painted nails as they dug into them.

“A-at least its progress,” Lala told her, flapping a hand, “I mean, we didn't even know if Kayo-chan was alive until now, so – ”

The door banged open, “Stop _right_ there,” the vaguely familiar form of Ohya's publishing chief commanded as he stormed inside, obviously having been eavesdropping outside the door and now finally having heard enough. “I knew it! You've been looking into Kayo's case behind my back! Well, not anymore. I've cut off your resources,” he declared angrily as Ohya jumped to her feet in horror. “I suggest you drop this investigation if you don't want to face the consequences!”

“Wait, _you're_ the one that pressured my contact to keep quiet?!” she exclaimed furiously.

“I told you...” the man growled threateningly, “This is where your chase ends.”

There was a flash of pink in the corner of Akira's eye and suddenly Harii was on the other side of the bar and sliding between the two so quickly they never saw him coming.

“That is enough, sir,” the teenager commanded firmly, making the pair stagger apart.

“W-what?” the chief spluttered.

“This is an establishment where people come to relax and enjoy themselves. Threatening our customers is not tolerated. If you wish to sit down and have a _civil_ conversation, then please, pull up a seat, I will be happy to serve you,” the young man invited, gesturing to one of the many empty bar stools, “However, if you do not intend to drink, I will have to ask you to leave,” he declared flatly.

The man flustered and scowled, “No one asked for your opinion, little bitch.”

“What did you say?!” Ohya demanded belligerently, grabbing Harii by the shoulder and gently shoving him behind her.

“Give it up, Ohya, unless you want to end up like that stupid friend of yours,” the chief spat, sneering at her.

“Don't talk about Kayo like that! Don't you dare!” the young woman hissed, balling her fists. “If you ever think of taking a shit on Kayo like that again, I won't hesitate to beat the living crap out of you!”

Harii moved to get between them again, and knowing how fired up Ann got whenever someone talked shit about Shiho, he quickly grabbed his former colleague and reeled him back before Ohya ended up treating him considerably less gently next time.

“Whoa, hey now!” the chief spluttered, taking a step back as he realised that he had most definitely pushed things too far.

Lala set both her hands onto the bar and practically loomed, “Take back everything you just said... Or I'm gunna do even worse,” she promised darkly, no longer playing the part of an attentive hostess, she deepened her voice as far as it could get and glared at him with a very menacing promise in her eyes.

“It's too late now, the higher ups have decided to put that incident to rest, and that's what we're doing!” he protested frantically, leaning backwards from the pair of livid women, before scoffing and turning on heel, storming out of the establishment.

Lala growled once the door swung shut, “That spineless coward cares only about himself,” she sneered.

“Shit. This just had to happen when I found a new lead on Kayo,” the reporter hissed, her voice cracking on the edge of tears. She turned to Lala, “What should I do? Should I go knock him the fuck out?” she demanded, clearly one of those girls who would prefer to punch what upset them than to be upset.

“Let's... think of another way,” he interrupted, mainly because he was fairly certain that Lala would tell Ohya to take a seat and go do it herself. And that way would lead to the Crossroads getting the wrong kind of publicity, and Lala herself potentially arrested, and then where would Harii work?

Ohya sighed as she turned to him, “That's easy for you to say,” she complained before rubbing her face, “No, I need to stay calm. Calm, yes... I can't give him anymore reason to fire me. Just stay calm, and... ARGH!” she grabbed her head and scrubbed her hands through her hair in frustration, “I can't stop now! I _won't_ stop now! I promise I won't stop fighting! I'll prove it to you with another _great_ article! Exclusive! The Phantom Thieves: Stealing Hearts and Changing Lives!” She giggled slyly, covering her mouth as she eyed him, “Not that you seem to have a problem with that,” she teased.

Akira winced a little in discomfort as Harii jumped away from him as if burnt, accidentally hitting him _quite_ hard in the process. She cackled until she wheezed as Harii sniffed, quickly retreating behind the bar with wounded dignity and avoiding eye contact with Akira as he went, ears bright pink.

“Ahaha! Sorry, sorry! I'll calm down now,” the woman cackled, wiping her eyes as she giggled wildly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lala is best girl, and I actually liked Ohya. Her Confidant arc was super interesting, and her abilities are fantastic, definitely worth doing.
> 
> As always, please do tell me if you think of any tags I should add to the list. I'm still new to the AO3 tagging system and never quite sure what tags are appropriate, or even know what things to tag for.


	3. Chapter 3

Futaba had awoken. And Medjed was dealt with in what was perhaps one of their most anti-climatic resolutions to date. Still, their popularity was now through the roof, they had a new member – even if they needed to, erm, rehabilitate her to function in current society.

Ann giggled wildly, “Really? I can't believe it!” she exclaimed, smothering her laughter in both hands as Morgana puffed himself up importantly in front of her.

Akira paused warily at the bottom of the stairs in Leblanc as he spotted Morgana holding court with both Ryuji, Ann, and Makoto in one of the booths. He had _thought_ it suspicious when he got up and the cat was gone, usually he waited until he peeled himself out of bed in order to ask what they had planned that day. He must have heard Ann when she came in, Kami knew he would blow Akira off in a heartbeat for her. That puppy-crush was seriously adorable, he almost felt sorry for him because Ann was.... not likely to notice it. Also, he was fairly certain she was already in a relationship with Shiho-san, but given how cruel Highschool could be, they were keeping quiet.

“Dude, are you _sure_?” Ryuji asked sceptically, “I mean, it's no big deal, but he was _mighty_ interested in the goods Ann was flashing back in Futaba's palace,” he pointed out and yelped when the girl next to him planted her knuckles into his ribs.

“I wasn't flashing anyone, you pervert!” she snarled, hitting him again for good measure as he tried to escape her wrath, yelping pathetically the whole while.

Makoto smoothed her hair back behind her ears, ignoring the circus going on opposite her as she focused on Morgana, “And you're sure he can help you regain your human form?” she asked carefully, fighting not to sound too sceptical, but obviously still doubtful.

Morgana nodded, “He told me not to get my hopes up but that he'll look into it. His teacher could turn into a cat!” he exclaimed, bouncing a little.

“Ahhh!! Akira! Dude! Save me from the She-Gorilla!” Ryuji howled, spotting him lurking in the background.

“Ahh, Akira! Morning!” Ann cheered, punching Ryuji in the side again even as she beamed over at him.

“Sorry to intrude,” Makoto said, turning in her seat to smile at him in greeting.

He glanced to the side but Sojiro wasn't there.

“Boss went to get some groceries, ow! Ann! Knock it off!” Ryuji squawked, trying to fend her off, but stuck in the windowseat he couldn't escape her.

Deciding to gird himself against the morning, he quickly went to the coffee pot to see if there was anything there before sighing and beginning to make a fresh pot. His friends continued to be noisy and abuse each other while he did so, Makoto trying to calm things down as Ryuji managed to dig himself an even deeper grave with Ann who was now using both hands to attack him from where he was trapped against the window. Morgana ducking flailing limbs and jumping to one of the barstools out of striking distance. He was _not_ dealing with that until he had some coffee in him.

One cup down the hatch, he poured himself another, took a deep breath, and then made his way over.

He slid in next to Makoto and cleared his throat, stopping both Ryuji and Ann in their tracks.

Makoto sighed, “ _Thank_ you,” she grit out long-sufferingly. “How are you feeling?” she asked kindly.

Akira shrugged a shoulder, sipping his coffee. He was tired. But by now that was less something that happened to him and more just a perpetual state of being.

Ann grinned toothily at him, “Been staying out late?” she teased, “Morgana told us about Harii-chan,” she added in a sing-song when he frowned at her wordlessly. He didn't _quite_ pout, but he did pointedly sip his coffee in silence as he glowered at her. “Aw c' _mon_ , Akira! This is _juicy_! There's a _boy_ and you _like_ him! Let me live vicariously through you!” she exclaimed throwing her hands up.

Akira rolled his eyes, “What, missing Shiho-chan that much?” he asked snarkily, making her gape at him for a moment before grabbing one of her pigtails in both hands, playing with it.

“Uh, wh-where did you – ” she stuttered.

“Oh please, you and your girlfriend aren't exactly subtle,” Ryuji dismissed as he reached for his own drink.

Makoto spluttered, “Wait, what?!” she squeaked.

“Oh, c'mon! Really?” Ryuji exclaimed staring at her, “Prez, I know you're not exactly social savvy but _everyone_ knew those two were making out behind the gym!”

Ann hit him, “We were not!” she shrieked.

“It was on the roof,” Akira corrected slyly, making her splutter angrily and kick him under the table. He winced and sipped his coffee pointedly until they all settled down, Makoto looking like someone had just changed the very constellations above her and that white rice was a lie, while Morgana looked heartbroken.

“You – really have a girlfriend, Lady Ann?” he asked desperately.

Ann fiddled with her hair, “Well, we've never – said – that – stuff out loud,” she admitted anxiously, stroking her hair and twisting it around her fingers, “With Kamoshida and everything that was happening, we didn't want to take the risk. But.... maybe now we're in different schools....” she trailed off thoughtfully before she lit up and beamed at them, “I'd have to talk to Shiho about making it official but, _yes_! Yes, I suppose I do.”

Morgana stared at her before he smiled painfully, “That's great, Lady Ann. I'm glad for you,” he told her.

She giggled, kicking her legs out, “Thanks Morgana! That – does actually mean a lot. You're the first one to say that,” she told him sincerely with a beautific smile before slamming her hands on the table and pointing in Akira's face, “But don't think that'll get you out of spilling the beans! Tell me everything!” she commanded loudly.

He sipped his coffee again to piss her off.

“Nothing to tell,” he finally said cheerfully, watching as she dropped her head and crumpled in her seat.

“Argh! That wasn't – something _had_ to have happened! Morgana said you were practically tripping over yourself!” she exclaimed making Makoto giggle a little.

Ryuji sprawled comfortably, “Aw, leave off, Ann. If he doesn't wanna say, he doesn't wanna say.”

She pouted at him, “You can't seriously be saying that Ryuji! You were _just_ as curious as I am!”

“Sure I am. But if he doesn't wanna tell us, then that's that.” The blond looked at him before leaning forward, “But he's totally cute, right? Morgana said he made for a really convincing girl,” he admitted eagerly, grinning excitedly.

“Ah! You're just as bad!” Ann exclaimed, punching him in the side again, and starting off another round of yelling and flailing between the two.

“Do _you_ think he can help Morgana?” Makoto asked beside him, deciding to ignore their classmates for now as they shouted.

Akira hummed, sipping his coffee, “It's a possibility,” he admitted slowly, “He made absolutely no promises, just that he would look into it. That's already better than before.”

She frowned, “But do you think he'll do it?” she asked.

He nodded, “I think so. When we worked at the beef bowl he never said anything he didn't mean, or start a task he didn't intend on seeing through to the end.” It was why he managed to outlast just about every other fulltime employee, or so everyone else seemed to think.

She sighed, “Still...” she trailed off, looking troubled and awkward. Akira knew where she was coming from, she _wanted_ to trust his judgement, but from their personal experiences only someone who had been to the metaverse could hear Morgana's voice when he spoke, and there was an unknown individual running around in a blackmask instigating mental shut downs. It was too much of a coincidence, especially since Potsu had then managed to get himself an 'in' with their group via claiming that his teacher could transform into a cat in order to sway Morgana, and then promising him aid in changing back. It was a subject none of them dared speak of with the feline near-by, but none of them were particularly of the opinion that he really _had_ been human. Theories ranged from a Shadow that managed to gain self-awareness in the right kind of Palace, but did so in a strange manner and created their own Persona, thus allowing them to leave the metaverse. They even played with the idea that he had actually been someone's Treasure and that his former owner had died of mental shut down, but he had managed to escape before the palace collapsed. Then there was the theory that he actually HAD been human, but gotten lost within Mementos for so long that he lost all sense of self and his own cognition turned him into a cat in order to evade the Shadows more easily – but then why hadn't he turned back once he returned to the human world?

He sipped his coffee without commenting.

And then his phone pinged.

**Oracle:** Just checked for you, there's been a few foreigners who've worked at the beef bowl place. What's his name?

He sighed as the rest of the group immediately began to text rapidly after seeing her message. Why she couldn't have talked about this when she got here later today for the second day of her rehabilitation with both Ryuji and Ann he didn't know, but whatever, she was helping for now.

**Queen:** Futaba! That's illegal!  
 **Panther:** Most of what we do can technically be called illegal.  
 **Skull:** Do you think he has a palace?  
 **Oracle:** Can't say.   
I was going to check for when he came into the country and where he lives.  
That's all.  
 **Joker:** Never got his full name.   
But he was called Potsu at the beef bowl, and Lala-san called him Harii  
 **Oracle:** Potsu Harii  
Huh  
'Harry Potter'  
He's your age, sixteen. Aw, we missed his birthday – July 31. No address listed at his place of work. No contact details at all.  
Notes on his file say he doesn't have a phone. Guess that rules out a metaverse user. I don't think you can get in without the app.  
  
Morgana scoffed, “ _I_ can get in. All that app is... is... _training wheels_ ,” he declared with a superior sniff.

**Queen:** Mona says its still possible. After all, he doesn't have one.  
How was he picking up his shifts without a phone?  
 **Oracle:** Full-time employment.  
 **Panther:** But! He's Our age! What about school?!  
 **Oracle:** I don't go to school  
 **Skull:** Something which I am super jealous about by the way  
 **Queen:** There are online classes, cram schools, and home-education. There is also the possibility that he just isn't getting an education right now.  
 **Ryuji:** Maybe he can't? I mean  
He's foreign. He's in Japan. Sure he can speak the language but can he read it?  
 **Joker:** He reads. He was the one who gave me all of my food safety and hygiene training.  
I could sit qualification tests and come out with a level three  
He was really hot on safety  
He said he went to school in England but got expelled. I got lucky to be accepted to Shujin. I doubt they would accept a foreigner who got expelled.  
 **Skull:** That's messed up  
 **Queen:** Did he share why he was expelled?  
 **Joker:** Haven't levelled up enough to unlock his tragic backstory  
Apparently  
 **Oracle:** hmhm I like this guy already!  
 **Panther:** There's only one thing left for it  
 **Skull:** Oh here we go  
 **Queen:** ?  
 **Oracle:** I have a bad feeling about this.

Ann slammed a hand on the table, pointing dramatically at Joker's face, her phone in hand.

“For the good of the Phantom Thieves: You have to _seduce him for information!_ ” she declared loudly, grinning wildly.

He very nearly choked on his coffee, but instead swallowed (with some difficulty) and set his cup down in order to stare at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering if she had any idea what she was _really_ asking of him before he flashed her a knife edged smirk. Of course she did.

“...Challenge accepted.”

 

* * *

 

How was this his life?

“Not this one, or this one, ugh, who the hell would wear this?” Ann complained bitterly as she blazed her way through the rack of clothing in front of her, Ryuji stood beside her in long-suffering but well trained silence, his arms full of clothing that she had already selected. Yusuke was examining a rack of accessories with the expression of a man attempting to divine the mysteries of the universe while Makoto was stood beside him to prevent him from running away, Morgana perched on his shoulders giving him dating advice.

He did not mention that his only dating experience was attempting to invite a taken lesbian out for a walk in the park while they drove through Mementos, and then had Yusuke invite himself along to join them. That would be too mean, especially with the recent revelation of Ann and Shiho's relationship.

But still, how was this this life?Their planned day with Futaba had been cut short to hanging out for a few hours, having lunch, and then once they'd cleaned up after that running off to the mall so Ann could force him into playing dress up.

As soon as he agreed with the plan, Ann declared his outfit an utter mess and demanded a shopping trip because if he was going to seduce a cutie who was stylish enough to work an okama bar without batting an eyelid, then he needed to measure up. She also demanded that he bring them over to introduce them, or find a way to invite him out for coffee at Leblanc. That way Futaba could text them when he arrived and they could gatecrash at an appropriate moment. He planned on doing exactly none of those things, but he couldn't get out of the shopping trip because the model was right when she pointed out he was a fashion tragedy right now – he had been forced to come to Tokyo with only the one small suitcase afterall. He had at most maybe seven changes of clothing, including his school uniforms.

Step one in 'his' grandplan to seduce Potsu: decent clothes.

He wisely _didn't_ point out that this was just Ann's desire to dictate his wardrobe in effect, though it totally was.

It would be nice to have some more variety than a choice between school trousers, gym clothes, jeans, sweats, and three T-shirts. And if Ann was the one selecting the clothing, then he was at least guaranteed that they would look nice, compliment him physically, and go with pretty much every other item of clothing he owned to be mixed and matched at his leisure. If there was one thing she took more seriously than her efforts as a Phantom Thief and modelling, it was fashion practicality. Small mercies. He didn't have the yen for everything – he was already dipping into his metaverse earned funds for this (they sold everything they gathered and split their monetary gains evenly between themselves).

“Man, how much money do you think that guy has?” Ryuji objected eventually when he started having difficulty peering over the pile of goods in his arms.

Ann scoffed, “I'm paying for half of it, you know!” she objected in annoyance, “It was my idea, so I'm taking at least partial responsibility. It's only fair,” she declared with a sniff as she pulled a long sleeved a-symmetrical punk top covered in safety pins and zippers from the rack, held it up with a wrinkled nose, and then quickly returned it after a sceptical glance in Akira's direction. Something for which he could only be thankful for. He wore the fake glasses so as to be easily dismissed, alternative soft-punk fashion would not help, and in fact, only do the opposite outside of Harajuku.

He refrained from sighing because this _was_ for his benefit, and his friends were being kind enough to even pay for half of it, he should be grateful, but it was still dull and tedious waiting for them to finish deciding what he was going to be wearing from now on.

Hang on, was that?

“Hold Morgana for a moment,” he requested, sliding the bag off and handing it to Makoto who startled out of her absent minded daydreaming to accept it, and their furry friend, as Akira quickly made his way through the bustling crowds to the familiar head of messy black hair.

“Is that...?” Makoto asked, standing on her tippytoes to follow her leader through the crowds as he came to a stop in front of a young foreign boy with thick wild black hair and baggy clothing carrying a rather heavy bag in both hands.

Morgana nodded, “That's him,” the feline confirmed with a pleased flick of his tail. “He's not as lovely as Lady Ann, but he is very kind.”

The two watched in silence as Joker chatted to the stranger who quirked a small smile at something their friend said and then shook his head turning serious, his expression a little apologetic as he set his bag down to gesture as he spoke. Makoto could.... _not_ see the appeal to him. He was far too thin, and his clothing was baggy and second hand. He looked quite disreputable in all honesty, especially with his atrocious hair – not the carefully styled 'bedhead' she had seen so often at school, but quite literally an untamed thatch of uncared for hair. Not to mention how suspicious he was just in _general_. However, both Joker and Mona were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt until they were in a position to pump him for information (and she hoped that was _all_ they did, until Ann's revelation she hadn't even considered same gender couplings before, never given them a thought, and was finding the sudden revelation a discomfiting one because... no, she needed to focus).

“C'mon Joker, bring him over,” Morgana murmured, dragging her attention out of the murky negatives she had far too much of a bad habit of delving into, “He might have food he'll share with me,” the cat muttered hopefully, making her smile a little helplessly. Of course it was all about his stomach. Boys.

“Where's Akira?” Ann called over, noticing their wayward leader was no longer with his parole officer making sure he didn't try to run off.

Makoto smiled a little stiffly and pointed down the mall corridor to where the two were talking. Ann peered out of the shop to see for herself and gasped gleefully, immediately rushing to Makoto's side where she could latch onto her arm “Is that him? Mona, is that the guy?” she asked in a rush, blue eyes practically lit up.

“Yep. That's Harii-chan,” the cat confirmed as the rest of the Thieves ambled their way out of the shop, Ryuji burdened with an excessive number of bags that Ann had forced onto him after buying what she deemed the most acceptable items of clothing.

“Awww, he's so cute!” Ann gushed, drawing looks of disbelief from everyone save Yusuke and Morgana.

“He looks like he got dragged through a hedge backwards!” Ryuji protested in disbelief.

Makoto grimaced, “I – have to agree with Ryuji,” she admitted, “He doesn't seem to be very.... reputable.”

Ann rolled her eyes, “Of course he's not going to be all dolled up in the middle of the day guys, c'mon. He works in a bar at night. _I'd_ wear my comfy clothes out and about if I had to get dressed up every night, geez,” she scoffed.

Yusuke hummed in agreement, “He certainly has lovely bone structure. I would like to see him in his working clothes, I must admit,” he stated absently as he leaned back, framing the pair between his fingers as they discussed something apparently quite serious judging by the frown on the smaller of the two's face.

Akira then said something, completely inaudible to them, but it had the stranger blurt out a cackle he quickly had to slap a hand over his mouth to silence when they drew frowns from passers by.

“Yesss!” Ann hissed, pumping a fist, “Nice one, Joker!”

Their leader said something else and they watched as Harii-san shook his head, still laughing into one hand, even as he made a rude gesture with the other that had Ryuji snorting. The foreigner took his glasses off and wiped his face.

“Oh,” Makoto squeaked, finally getting a _decent_ look at his face without everything in the way. Okay, she could see the appeal now, at least a little.

The young man shoved his glasses back on, picked up his shopping and with what was probably a pithy comment (given Joker's general tastes it would have had to be snarky, sarcastic, or sassy judging by the grin that split their leader's face), and a rude hand gesture, the young man left.

Ann made a noise and immediately rushed over, “Why'd you let him leave?!” she practically howled, jumping on him, “You could have introduced us!” she complained, punching him lightly in the stomach.

“Dude, uh,” Ryuji started, an uncertain look on his face before he quickly second guessed what he was about to say and gave his buddy an awkward smile, “He seems... nice?”

“Did you ask him to Leblanc?” Makoto ventured carefully, knowing that it had been their original plan so that they could introduce themselves and get Futaba's attention onto him more easily. Any information she got about him, she could then use to further their knowledge of him.

Joker shook his head looking torn between a little frustrated but also incredibly amused and determined, “My level still isn't high enough,” he complained almost playfully with a slight shake of his head. “I even asked if he'd help me grind it up, but he refused.”

Ryuji and Ann cracked up into highly inappropriate hooting cackles, and even Makoto had to clap a hand over her mouth in horrified amusement. Neither Yusuke or Morgana understood, looking between the three of them and Akira's smug face with confusion.

 

* * *

 

He was probably being entirely too forward about this, but he couldn't help it, he dropped by Crossroads later that night in order to see Harii in the new clothes that Ann had forced on him – as soon as she found out he intended on visiting that night she had torn through all of the bags and selected his outfit herself. To his unappreciative eyes, it was just a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and an admittedly nice button down shirt, he honestly didn't think he looked any different, neither did Shinjuku's usual patrons given how they maintained their normal pattern of eyeing him and then dismissing him just as quickly.

Crossroads was as open and welcoming as usual, Lala-san was behind the bar at the till, checking receipts and counting money while Harii was polishing glasses and lining them up for use. Ohya-san was no where to be seen. Lala caught sight of him before Harii, preternaturally aware of people coming into her bar. Apparently _she_ could tell the difference in how he was dressed as her eyes widened a little, flicked him up and down, and then settled her expression into a decidedly smug smirk of what he could only tentatively call maybe approval. Or amusement. Either way she made no comment towards him and instead turned her attention back to the till and made a low curse.

“Damnit, Harii-chan, keep an eye on front. I'm taking the till into the office, I can't count it out here with this headache messing my eyes up,” she declared in annoyance as she carefully hoisted the whole thing out of the register. “You'll have to stick to card payments until I bring it back,” she sniffed.

“Of course Madam. Do you need any pain killers?” the teenager asked gently, sounding worried as he quickly moved to his employer's side.

Lala waved him off, “I have aspirin in the office. Thanks though,” she added with a warm smile before vanishing into the back rooms as Akira took his usual seat.

Harii near enough jumped out of his skin when he turned around and spotted him for the first time, “ _Merlin! Don't_ _do_ _that to me!_ ” he yelped in English, hands jerking as if to do.... _something_.

“You need to level up your awareness,” he teased with a grin.

The crossdresser's lips twitched for a moment, “Don't get smart with me,” he retorted as he reached for a glass, “What would you like?”

“A coffee date but how about orange juice to start?” he requested, grinning when the young man made a point of rolling his eyes where Akira could see and getting him his drink. He was wearing a familiar kimono this time, one of Lala's black and gold ones that he had seen the woman don before now, he wouldn't dare disrespect Lala-san by saying Harii wore it better, but he was definitely more appreciative of the combination on the younger of the two.

“You're going to keep asking me for coffee until I agree, aren't you?” Harii asked as he set the glass down in front of him. Akira sipped his drink and nodded with an innocent smile. “What's in it for me?” the young man asked idly, leaning his elbows on the bar and smirking at him, “Why should I agree to it?”

“Aside from my charming company, the best coffee and curry you've ever eaten. Scientifically researched to maximise the flavour to its ultimate form,” he informed the young man, sipping his orange juice as he watched the fall of dark hair from his wig slide down his shoulder in a very distracting caress.

Harii's smirk quirked a little, “Might be tempting, if I liked either of those things,” he admitted idly, making Akira pause in confusion, he didn't like coffee? _Or_ curry? “I'm British, I prefer tea to coffee. And unfortunately I'm not a great lover of spicy foods,” the green eyed teenager explained as he straightened up and went to fetch a drink of his own.

Akira huffed a smile, “I'm sure Boss could change your opinion, but if you'd rather not, we could take a walk around Inokashira Park and have my friends follow us the whole time, we could go fishing and have my homeroom teacher gatecrash instead and spend the whole time complaining about her lack of love-life to make things uncomfortable,” he began to list lazily making the foreigner snort and start laughing, “We could try catching a movie and get pelted with popcorn when my friends sneak in to sit behind us and spend more time watching us than the film. We could do the Big Bang Burger challenge and end up sick on half a head of lettuce – ”

“Stop! Stop – stop – stop! You've made your point!” he laughed waving his hands for emphasis. “Alright, fine, you've convinced me. Coffee it is. But you're paying,” he added with a slightly apologetic smirk, which only reminded Akira that right now he was having rent troubles and perhaps his claim of disliking curry stemmed more from his worry of being unable to _afford_ it instead of the taste. Wow, way to make him feel like an asshole all of a sudden.

“Of course,” he agreed instantly, “The inviter is the one who pays for the date normally, right?”

“And who said this was a date?” Harii asked lightly with a raised eyebrow.

Akira feigned hurt, “You're objecting?” he asked, placing a hand over his heart.

“Who said _that_ either?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love the snark. And FINALLY Akira is getting somewhere XDD


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh no, honey, you are not going dressed like _that_ ,” Lala declared as Harry left his apartment, near enough jumping out of his skin as she spoke up because Lala lived three buildings over with a much better landlord than Harry did.

He stared at her, dressed in a floral skirt and purple top, wearing one of her day wigs, a nice dark brown one in her usual style, she had several bags with her and he suddenly felt hunted. Next to her was a significantly sleep deprived looking Ohya who lit up with toothy glee at the sight of him.

“I – what do you mean? What's wrong with it?” he asked defensively as he checked his clothes over again. He was wearing a pair of his old school trousers, so they were nice and they actually fit properly, one of Dudley's old t-shirts, and one of his Weasley sweaters to hide it. It was a nice shade of green with a large tawny gold H on it, it was made of a soft almost silky wool that Molly had made herself, it was one of his favourite sweaters in all honesty, it even fit him which was rare because she often made the mistake of measuring whichever child she had closest to hand when planning these and then guessed how much they would grow in the coming three-four months based off that, and then added a little more to make sure it would fit until the next sweater could be made.

Harry, who hadn't grown much since he hit thirteen, was about the same size as Ginny. And yet Molly continued to make him sweaters that could have taken Ron a few months to grow into. Bless her. It didn't bother him, he preferred the baggy clothing, after so long it felt less like humiliation and more like a safety blanket. He liked being able to snuggle into them, or hide the nervous twitches of his hands, and his wand up his sleeve.

Lala shook her head, “You're going on a _date_ , sweetie. What are friends for but making sure you look like a million yen and your fella to realise how damn lucky he is that a gem like you is letting him woo you,” she declared as she scooped her bags up and gestured to the door, “Well, open 'er up. We've got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it in if you want to get there in time!”

He looked helplessly at Ohya who snorted a laugh, “Don't look at me. I'm taking pictures for posterity, and you'd better give me all the juicy details! Everyone loves a cute feel-good story, and even if it isn't about the Phantom Thieves, I'm sure I can put a spin on it,” she added with a wink and a toothy grin.

And just like that, Harry's protests died as he meekly let himself be shepherded back inside. Ohya was exhausted and barely making her quotas as her boss had doubled them again in the aftermath of the last incident. It didn't matter what Ohya and Lala said, he still felt responsible because surely if he'd just kept his mouth shut and didn't interfere then he wouldn't have come down so hard on her for what happened. If giving Ohya something to pad her quota out with from his date helped, then he was willing to do it, even if it meant subjecting himself to 'girl-talk' again.

“Hm, not bad. I was expecting a lot worse from a teenage boy,” the reporter noted as she peered around his tiny shoebox apartment. He lived in a very small one-bedroom apartment, with his futon out there was enough space for his trunk at his feet and a narrow bookshelf against the wall behind his head as a crude headboard/bedside table, and three feet of space on his left. It was a long and narrow room all things considered, his sleeping space furthest from the door which was directly next to a small kitchen space that was a single countertop, a sink, and a fridge tucked up underneath with a cupboard above head height. Harry had put his kettle under the cupboard, and he had a hot-plate in the cupboard. He had a separated toilet with sink, and a boxy little shower barely big enough for even _him_ to bend down inside of – Lala would have had no chance. And the rest was storage. All in all, no where near worth the ridiculously exorbitant cost of his rent – but without papers or, indeed, a legal right to be in the country, his pig of a landlord could charge what he wanted in rent and there was nothing Harry could do.

Because it was so small, he made sure to keep everything clean and tidy so he didn't end up falling on anything and hurting himself. Most of his magical things were kept in his trunk, Hedwig's cage set above it – she had taken the move to Japan with far greater ease and happiness than Harry had, and now spent most of her time out flying and hunting to her heart's content. He was glad for her, even if he did miss her a little sometimes. She always knew when to come back though, whenever the loneliness got too much and the stress and worries threatened to crush him, she would appear and he would remember why he was stubbornly staying afloat. It was to make sure she never had to go back to Privet Drive again. So that _they_ would never have to go back again.

He shook his thoughts off as the ladies took their shoes off and got comfortable, Lala setting her bags down and pulling out several familiar boxes and her make-up kit. He sighed and set his bag down and sat opposite them with a resigned look on his face that had Ohya start laughing.

“Oh don't look like that!” she exclaimed with a grin, “We're going to make you super cute, right Lala-chan?” she cheered as the professional okama produced her final box from the bag.

“That we are. Can't have our 'Princess' go off to meet her Prince Charming without looking the part,” she teased, and outright laughed in Harry's face at the deadpan glare he treated her to.

“There's nothing charming, nor princely, about him. And _I'm not a Princess!_ ” he added quickly as he spotted Ohya's mouth opening, a devilish grin on her face, no doubt about to say something about how he didn't object to being called a princess.

Lala snorted, and Ohya scoffed, “You're practically Lala-chan's okama-baby, and if she's a Queen, that makes you her Princess,” she explained factually, completely unaware of how tight her words made Harry's chest feel all of a sudden.

“And I am most certainly not letting my baby go on her first date looking like she got dragged through a thrift-shop backwards in the dark,” Lala declared, waving a perfectly manicured finger threateningly, her expression soft as she looked him in the eye, understanding without words how big that declaration was to him, how much it mattered, and how she wasn't taking a single word of it back.

It took a few times, but he eventually managed to swallow back the hard knot of emotions in his throat in order to croak, “There's nothing wrong with thrift stores.”

“There is when you get dragged by your hair,” Ohya pointed out, reaching over to tug a strand of his hair before frowning and then leaning forward properly to run both of her hands though it, “Sweet Kami, what do you wash your hair with?! It's so damaged!” she squawked, breaking the tension of the heartfelt moment between her friend and her apprentice/daughter-son without a second thought, clearing the air and letting the both of them get ahold of themselves once more without making a big deal of it. See, Lala-chan! She could read a room!

“Uh, soap? Like everyone else?” Harry grunted as he tried to tug his head away.

“No one uses soap in their hair, Harii-chan! Lala-chan! This is criminal! Look at this! Feel it!” Ohya exclaimed, practically scalping Harry as she very nearly slammed his head into his own knee in her efforts to show Lala just how bad the damage to his hair was.

The older woman gently raked a hand through his hair and then sighed, “Dehydration, malnutrition, and hand-soap. You don't take good care of yourself, do you, Harii-chan?” she complained tiredly, “Good thing I brought my bag of magic tricks,” she declared with a triumphant grin as she opened up her make-up kit, and revealed a small hidden compartment behind the built-in mirror.

Ohya released him and stared at them with squinted eyes, “Oh... Should I be here for this?” she asked warily, staring at what was unmistakably potion phials all neatly arrayed within Lala's make-up kit.

The okama shrugged a shoulder, “You're already aware, so it doesn't matter. It wasn't me that revealed it, so I can't get into trouble, and neither can Harii-chan here. We're just three friends who happen to know the same secret, discussing it behind closed doors. You're fine,” she assured the reporter as Harry stared at her curiously.

“I thought you were mundane-born though?” he asked curiously.

Ohya shook her head, “No. Mundane all the way. Lala-chan was my bestfriend when we were kids, she was careful to keep it quiet and when she went to school properly I refused to let her go completely. Fast-forward to post graduation for us both, I've just started my rookie reporter gig and Lala-chan opened Crossroads. I dropped by to visit and someone took exception to how I spoke to her, we got into a fight outside and he revealed the magical world. Lala should have erased my memory but she was too busy dealing with everyone else who saw the idiot start throwing lightning bolts around Shinjuku.”

“No one could believe a Mundane was able to subdue a Guild Master from the Anti-Demon Society, they just assumed she was a Mundane-born who decided to leave their world and keep herself to herself. It all worked out in the end, and I could really, _truly_ , be honest with my bestfriend,” Lala explained with an affectionate look at Ohya who beamed at her. “Now she keeps her ears to the ground in Crossroads for any disturbances, passes rumours off to her contacts in the industry and they help cover it all up. When the Ministry found out that she was actually Mundane, they couldn't make a move on her because she knew too much and she had proven that she was more valuable in the know than not.”

Ohya snorted, “Plus, Lala-chan threatened to marry me if they tried anything.”

The okama rolled her eyes, “My family are what you'd call Pureblood. Very important. If I married a mundane, there would be riots in the streets over such a dishonour, and it would kick up the civil rights movement and all _sorts_ of trouble for the Ministry,” she added with a devious smirk that told him she would enjoy absolutely every single headache that decision caused them.

“Do you two love each other then?” he asked curiously. He'd been thinking it for a while, but hadn't wanted to presume because Merlin knew he could be as dense as a fence-post sometimes.

Ohya laughed, “If she'd have me, I'd agree in a heartbeat. You can't find anyone better than your bestfriend to settle down with, but unfortunately, neither of us are attracted to women. Tragic, isn't it? Nah, Lala-chan's in the market for a boyfriend and I'm stuck fending off my mother's constant matchmaking attempts.”

“Now, back to the matter at hand,” Lala declared producing her scissors from the make-up kit, “Let's get you sorted!”

 

* * *

 

**Ohya:** Harii-chan's gunna be a little late!  
Lala-chan absolutely couldn't let him go without making sure he was presentable first!  
He'll be coming your way on the half-past eleven train

Akira stared at the text with mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation. Ohya _knew_ about their date? What's more, _Lala-san_ had made sure that Harii was 'presentable'? Did that mean.....

He pumped a fist in wordless victory, dancing in a small circle in his room with silent glee. Harii was getting dressed up for their date! Which meant Soujiro wasn't going to be giving him the stink eye for bringing someone he deemed inappropriate into the cafe – which he had done the first time Ryuji showed up, it was only the fact that Ann came in on his friend's heels that softened him into letting them stay. He later realised he had been a bit hasty in judging the blond simply for his dyed hair and slouching posture, especially when he caught sight of the way his friend would massage his formerly broken leg with discomfort on bad days, but he still judged in the first place. Which made Akira somewhat wary when he got home after arranging everything to realise that his date would have to happen while Soujiro was there.

He tucked his phone into his pocket and quickly made his way downstairs, whispering to Soujiro while Futaba's back was turned, focused intently on the coffee grinder as she worked out its mysteries that he was going to pick Harii up from the station so they didn't get lost. She didn't hear him, and Soujiro nodded with a mixture of confusion and gratitude – the look of astonishment on his face when Akira told him about his date coming today shouldn't have been as amusing as it was. He should have probably been insulted more than anything, but it was hysterical none the less. The retired Government Worker was still absolutely dumb-founded that a 'girl' would be interested in a delinquent like him, much less the kind of person that he described.

He quickly made his way to the train station and got comfortable at the barriers, keeping an eye on the platform and the electronic time-table. The train coming in from Shibuya would be arriving soon, and with it his date, he had gotten there just in time it seemed. He wet his lips in anticipation, had Lala-san put him into a traditional kimono? Was he going to show up in a shirt – like he had, looking his actual gender? Something else?

The train rolled in just as he was beginning to imagine Gothic Lolita style ruffled skirts and thigh-high socks adorned with ribbons (maybe... he could talk Harii into expanding his wardrobe?). Akira pushed himself away from the ticket barrier wall where he had been leaning in order to sport him as he got off the train, a brief stab of anxiety filling him at the thought of them missing each other – Harii would continue to Leblanc without him to wait, while he stood here and inevitably missed his date.

He needn't have been worried.

Akira's mouth opened the moment he stepped off the train, his eyes widening in stunned appreciation. Lala had wrapped him into a pretty sapphire and navy blue yukata with ghostly pale blue butterflies on the fabric that left soft fading trails of light in their wake, cinched shut with a silvery blue obi and a black cord. His hair was pulled back with a pair of vibrant blue kanzashi in the shape of butterflies and wisteria blossom, and he had a small silver coloured clutch handbag on a chain over one shoulder.

“Wow...” he breathed, unable to think of anything else as Harii glanced around, his eyes lined with black and dusted with dark grey, making the bright green of them stand out all the more. He squinted a little as he carefully moved through the bustling crowds towards the exit, and that was when Akira remembered that unlike him Harii actually _needed_ the glasses that he usually wore at work.

He couldn't actually see Akira waiting for him.

Huffing a little in amusement, he quickly slid his way through the thankfully minor crowd of commuters to the foreigner's side, without his noticing. He couldn't resist as he leaned in close over the foreigner's shoulder, practically purring into his war as he said, “When Ohya said 'presentable', I didn't think she meant stunning.”

Harii tensed up suddenly, flinching away from him with a sharp inhale.

“Don't _do_ that!” he scolded, pressing a hand to his chest, “You scared the shit out of me,” he complained weakly, looking significantly paler than usual.

He _almost_ felt bad as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry,” he said, before peeking at him from under his fringe, “Make it up to you?” he offered hopefully even as he shifted and offered his arm. Like a gentleman, as Morgana instructed him stringently that night.

A little hesitantly, and with a very distracting bite to his lower lip that he couldn't help but watch, Harii eventually slipped his hand into the crook of his elbow, “You had better,” he muttered with a grateful, if slightly lost look at his surroundings. “But seriously, don't do that again. I don't like being snuck up on, and I tend to hit first and ask questions later. I don't want to hurt you,” he warned seriously as they began to walk slowly back to Leblanc. “My school wasn't exactly.... it was wonderful but.... I mean....” he trailed off, struggling to find the right words to explain both his feelings and what his former school was like.

It was the easiest thing in the world – far too easy in fact, none of his other dates had been like this, it felt almost like he was going too fast, _would_ have felt like going too fast, if it didn't feel so damn natural to do it – to lean over and press a kiss to Harii's forehead, nosing into the shorter teenager's head and inhaling the smell of his hair. “You don't have to explain,” he said soothingly, feeling Harii's whole body twitch and his footsteps hitch before carrying on. “If I get hit, I'll probably deserve it,” he admitted with an unrepentant roguish grin as the foreigner whipped his head up to glare at him.

He huffed, and frowned as he looked back down, “Alright, fine. Don't say I didn't warn you though.”

Akira laughed, tickled a bit even though he knew better than to judge a book by its cover. But, Harii? He wasn't violent, he wasn't even loud or rude. The thought of doll-like, 5'3”, barely ninety pounds soaking wet if _that,_ actually managing to hurt him was somewhat ludicrous. Doing it with intent? And unapologetically at that? He didn't buy it for a second.

“Ah, speaking of warnings,” he realised as they turned down the side street that led to Leblanc, “I should probably warn _you_ that I've somewhat double-booked today.”

Harii looked a bit uncomfortable (and dare he say it, disappointed?), “We can reschedule if – ”

Akira shook his head rapidly, and tightened his grip on Harii's arm, “No, no. Nothing like that. My guardian, he owns the coffee shop. His daughter was a shut in till recently, and my friends and I are trying to get her used to being around people again. Today's kind of her final test, she's helping out,” he explained as he slowed them to a stop just outside the cafe, feeling Harii's green eyes on face as he eyed the door. “You're one of the kindest people I know, and I wanted today to go well for her. Plus I get to spend it with you, so it's a win-win across the board,” he added with a grin as he looked down at the suddenly red faced crossdresser.

Harii scoffed, looking away, “No, I'm not. I'm just not an asshole,” he declared as Akira opened the door for them, “You shouldn't mistake common human decency for kindness,” he scolded.

He couldn't help but grin at the raised eyebrow that particular comment earned him from Soujiro who then actually took a proper look at Harii, his eyes widening a little before his smile eased into something a little more natural. “Harii-san, this is Sakura Soujiro,” he introduced at the slightly pointed cough from his current guardian as he let the door swing shut behind them. Spotting Futaba peering out of the kitchen with wide eyes and steam fogged glasses. “Boss, this is Harii-chan whom I used to work with,” he explained as Harii peered over at him, probably only seeing a blur, and then bowed politely.

“It's nice to meet you sir,” he greeted and Akira could see the exact moment that Soujiro melted. He was such a sucker for 'girls' with pretty faces.

“Nice to meet you too, Harii-san. Why don't you two take a seat and I'll be by with some coffee in a bit?” the older gentleman suggested with a kind smile before Akira quickly ushered him to a booth where they wouldn't be the centre of attention in here. Not that there was anyone but Soujiro and Futaba there to pay attention, but still, the illusion might get Harii to relax a bit as he slid hesitantly into the booth opposite and Akira took his sweet time in studying him as the sound of the coffee grinder started up behind them, accompanied by Futaba hissing at Soujiro from her spot hiding in the kitchen.

He was without his glasses again, thus probably unable to even see the very appreciative look on his face, he wasn't wearing a wig though, he blinked when he realised he could _see_ Harii's hairline, and that yes the long elegantly twisted fall of silky dark black hair was in fact his own. Huh. He could have _sworn_ that two days ago it had been short? He brushed the thought off, if his teacher could turn into a cat, making his hair longer probably shouldn't be surprising.

“Here, I was told it was appropriate to give a gift, but I... didn't exactly get given advice on what was good. I'm sorry if I overstepped any boundaries,” Harii explained as he pulled a small plastic bag from his clutch.

Akira blinked, stunned, usually it was the boy- or rather the _inviter_ who offered the gift, not the invitee. Perhaps Harii-san had been told 'boy' and assumed that he had to bring a present too.

He smiled, “What a surprise, I brought you something too,” he admitted, sliding his own gift over before accepting his own. It was very small, and when he carefully opened it up he had to fight to stop himself from immediately cooing over the criminally adorable black cat-shaped phonecharm. Morgana would _definitely_ approve, or get nettled over any perceived teasing. Didn't matter though, he _loved_ it.

“Looks like we had the same thing in mind,” Harii laughed as he set the box down with his new kanzashi in, the little white cat being almost identical in everything save colour to the black cat phonecharm.

Akira grinned and quickly grabbed his phone out of his backpocket in order to attach the charm, “Just goes to prove the fact that cats are the best,” he announced even as he cast a glance at Futaba as the bell for the cafe chimed and a man walked in, that same pompous guy that was so certain of his opinions. Akira fought not to grimace as the man called for his usual order and took a seat in the booth behind them, but not his usual _seat_ – instead he sat opposite, so he could see them.

“I'm more of a bird kinda guy,” Harii told him with a smile as he eyed the phonecharm before hesitating.... and then reaching up to pull the butterflies out of his hair. Akira felt very odd, unable to tear his eyes away as with each pin long dark hair tumbled down his shoulders and spilled down his back. His mouth went dry, and his fingers twitched a little with the desire to run them through that thick fall of soft black as it slipped past the arch of his neck. He watched hungrily as Harii gathered up his hair once again and then carefully began to pin it back up using the kanzashi he gave him, the white standing out starkly amongst the black, before he boxed up his butterflies and tucked them into the clutch. Where Akira could also see his glasses.

Harii smiled almost shyly as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“Very cute,” Akira praised past his stuck throat.

That was when Soujiro popped up with their coffees and accompaniments. He could have both cursed, and thanked him, for the interruption right then because it helped unstick his brain from somewhere significantly lower than his bellybutton. He sipped at his undoctored coffee, hmming a little at the rich earthy taste – Harii clearly didn't agree if the way his lips contorted a little as he tried it without any additives first before reaching for the milk and sugar.

He was about to make a teasing comment when the asshole in the booth turned his attention to Soujiro, “She a new part-timer? Man, smooth as always. What number Bond girl is this, Boss?” he asked with a playful leer that made the orange haired girl squeak and retreat back into the kitchen.

“It's not like that,” Soujiro refused blandly as he fussed with several receipts behind the counter.

“You usually go for the older ones right? It's only natural you'd want someone younger sometimes,” he laughed grossly, and Akira saw the way Harii twisted in his seat, his expression going dark, “It's like the guatemala peaberry coffee. Its acidic sweetness is akin to a breath of fresh air.”

“Sorry. We're serving a blend today,” Soujiro informed him blandly without looking up, even as Akira reached over the table between their drinks to grab at Harii's closed fist. The young man twitched and turned to him with an expression barely a hair short of murderous, meaning that they missed the split second of Futaba hurrying past them.

They didn't miss the startled yelp from the asshole as he practically threw himself backwards in his booth, Futaba slamming his cup and saucer in front of him and quickly retreating again, her face hidden once again inside her huge novelty mask.

“Yo, here's your coffee!” she exclaimed, trying to cover her nerves by forced nonchalance.

Harii gaped at her, and Akira tightened his grip on the hand beneath his, having to press his knuckles against his lips to hide his amusement.

“When in the world did she...” Soujiro spluttered before sighing and straightening up, “Hey Futaba, haven't I told you not to show in front of people with that damn thing on? And be more polite when you're bringing something to a customer,” he scolded gently.

The reaction was instant, the girl straightened up and gestured to the coffee carefully, “H-here is your coffee... sir!” she added desperately.

The asshole settled, still looking as though he'd had the shock of his life, but he relaxed, “A-ah... thanks.”

The girl bounced a little, obviously happy even with her face hidden, and then she rushed back 'Boss', “I did it! I did it right! Did you see? I spoke to him and everything!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Soujiro chuckled and patted her masked head, “You did good. How are those dishes looking?” he asked, the girl made a strange noise and rushed back into the kitchen, almost bumping into the doorframe because she couldn't see very well in her mask.

Harii winced as he looked after her, fingers twitching under Akira's hand.

“So,” the taller of the pair endeavoured to distract, “What's your favourite food?” he asked inanely, shrugging a little at the look of bewilderment Harii gave him.

It took him a moment, but eventually he relaxed, and slid his hand out from under Akira's and tried his drink again once it had been softened with milk and sugar, taking a much more appreciative mouthful before answering, “Shepherd's pie would be a favourite,” he admitted, smiling a little at the confused head-tilt. “It's a lamb and potato based meal many, many years old. Minced lamb, onions, tomato puree, carrots, stock, cooked together, and then covered with mashed potato – whenever I made it for my Aunt and Uncle I would add four different kinds of cheese to the mash mix, and then sprinkle some more on top in the last twenty minutes of cooking so it would come out crispy and melted,” he explained with obvious relish. It honestly sounded a little disgusting to the Japanese native, but he supposed he could chalk that up to cultural differences.

“You'll have to let me try it some day,” he said, sipping his coffee with a smirk. He'd probably still say it tasted delicious even though it tasted like a shoe, if only to see him smile like that.

“What about you?” Harii asked curiously after agreeing to keep some by if he ever made it in the future – he couldn't do it at his apartment, he didn't have an oven, and finding the ingredients in Japan was proving difficult. “What's your favourite food?”

“Boss is making it right now,” he quipped in amusement, watching as Harii craned his head to see into the kitchen and gave the air a slight sniff, frowning a little and then sniffing again.

“That's.... curry, it smells like a Korma but.... not?” he mused with a slight frown, drawing a startled laugh from the proprietor in the kitchen as he overlooked Futaba's careful stirring of the pot (thankfully no longer wearing her mask).

“You've got a good nose! You're right, the recipe is _based_ on a fusion of both korma and katsu curry. A recipe that was then improved on by one of Japan's greatest minds,” Soujiro explained, impossibly fond and still longing as he thought of Wakaba-san. Akira stared at his temporary guardian with sympathy. Boss loved her. And he was never going to stop loving her.

“That was my mom!” Futaba chimed in self-importantly, only to realise she was talking to a stranger, go pink and immediately look for somewhere to hide.

“She sounds amazing,” Harii praised with a bright smile that immediately had Futaba's head nodding rapidly.

“She was! Absolutely!”

Soujiro smiled kindly as he laid a hand on her shoulder, bending in close, “Futaba, how about you bring Akira and his lovely friend their lunch, hm? _Leave the mask_ ,” he added when he saw the way his daughter immediately turned to the fridge where he had hidden the large paper-mache head out of her reach atop it.

She squeaked a little even as Soujiro presented her with a plate of fragrant curry. She looked between the meal, her father, and then the two she was delivering the meal so before taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, muttering under her breath as she marched over. This time, she didn't slam the plate down, but instead set it down carefully so as not to splash hot curry sauce on the customer's pretty yukata.

“Your meal, miss!” she exclaimed, her voice high and strained.

Harii smiled at her, “Thank you, Futaba-chan. You're doing great,” he praised her, making the orange haired girl perk up excitedly, “A word of advice though? You have such lovely long hair, it might get caught on something if you leave it loose. May I?” he asked gently, gesturing to her head.

“Heenh?” the younger girl squeaked in confusion, her eyes cutting to Akira who nodded with an encouraging smile.

“I won't hurt you, Futaba-chan. And I won't touch you unless you're okay with it, I promise sweetheart,” the green eyed youth promised, keeping his hands folded in his lap and smiling kindly at her.

She eyed Akira before looking at his date, “Wh-what are you gunna do?” she asked weakly.

“Braid it up out of the way, honey. That's all. It really isn't safe to have it loose in a kitchen like that. I don't want you to get it in someone's meal, or worse, catch it on fire,” he explained gently with a small grimace.

Futaba flinched, her hands leaping to her hair, “F- _fire_?!” she gasped.

Harii nodded, “The worst case scenario.”

She nodded and turned her back to him, “Okay! Please, I don't – I don't want to catch fire!”

She fidgeted, feeling gentle hands gathering up her hair, pulling it away from her shoulders and separating it out into sections. The tugs were gentle but firm, and the back her shoulders started to feel weirdly cold as she felt the swish of her hair against the small of her back get less and less. Then she felt tugging and pulling at the back of her head and fingers pressing against her scalp, and then a pause.

“....You're one of Akira's friends, right?” 'she' asked carefully.

“E-eh? Y-yes!”

“....Then you can give him these to return to me when your shift is finished,” 'she' said as something pinched in her hair, and then she felt something long and hard slide into her hair. “There, done. You look cute.”

She paused as she caught sight of her reflection in one of the chrome surfaces. Harii had braided and then twisted her hair into a bun at the back of her head, and secured it in place with the white cat kanzashi that had once been in 'her' hair. The older girl was kneeling on the booth seat behind her, black hair now hanging over 'her' shoulders in loose silky waves down to 'her' elbows.

Akira grinned, watching his date fuss after his teammate, his eyes greedily following the fall of his hair as he reached up and unpinned it, unspooling black silk strands to spill down his back. His fingers itched to touch it. Long hair was a good look on Harii, he looked nice with the wig, but this? Somehow it was much more.... _more_ when it was his own hair. Perhaps it was just the texture, the way the light from the windows behind them turned it from inky black to deep chocolatey black and red.

Either way, he slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick photograph of the scene. The nervous look of dawning delight on Futaba's face when she got a look at her new hairstyle in the chrome reflections, the soft kind smile on Harii's face as he pulled his hands away.

Soujiro shot him a look of surprise as he brought a second plate out, his expression slightly judgemental, and it was with a sting of guilt and indignation that he quickly slipped his phone into his sleeve. Boss's face spasmed even further with astonishment and it took Akira a moment to realise that he had never demonstrated any kind of proficiency or dexterity around Boss.

“Send me that picture later,” the man whispered under his breath as he set the second plate of curry down in front of him.

He nodded, and then smiled as Harii sat down properly, Futaba immediately grasping at Soujiro to show off the hairpins.

The crossdresser went pink when their eyes met, “What?!” he demanded defensively.

“Nothing,” Akira chirped, grinning.

 

* * *

__

It was possibly the most successful date he'd ever been on, Akira decided as he walked Harii back to the trainstation to make sure he got on the right one home – he almost had every intention of escorting him all the way back to his apartment only to have the young man point out that while he may be _dressed_ like a girl, he _wasn't_ , and didn't need protection, thank you. It hadn't been _about_ protection in all honesty, he had just wanted to spend more time with him but decided not to argue the point beyond saying he knew Harii could handle himself.

“Thank you for introducing me to Leblanc,” Harii said after a mostly silent walk, “I can honestly say I'm surprised I enjoyed that curry. I usually hate them,” he admitted with a smile.

“Boss does make the best food,” Akira agreed as they reached the station. “Does this mean you'll agree to date two?” he asked hopefully, trying to play it cool.He had said that Futaba could give him the hairpins to return on their next date, but it was always good to check.

Judging by the side-eye and smirk on Harii's face he wasn't as 'cool' as he thought he was, but the other teen didn't seem to mind, “I'm sure we can work something out,” he eventually decided in a lofty tone of voice as he examined the train-times, ignoring the fist pump that Akira launched into behind his back, much to the amusement of the station guard watching them.

The second date would have to happen somewhere else, he wasn't willing to subject Harii to his friends just yet – he wanted some alone time with him damnit. Only one date and they already wanted him to share, nope, not happening. That didn't give him a lot of options, he was going to have to get creative because there were only a few places he could reliably take Harii without his friends finding out somehow.

“Akira...” Joker paused, suddenly aware that Harii was a _lot_ closer than he had been just a moment before, and then he froze when the shorter boy tugged him down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. One that _lingered_.

His mouth dropped open in shock as Harii let him go, and took a step back, “I'll see you round,” the foreigner told him lightly before turning, hair fanning out behind him, inserted his pass into the barriers, and then quickly making his way onto the platform while Akira stood in his wake, frozen in the same lopsided pose he had when he'd been kissed, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

He didn't move until Harii passed out of sight, at which point he figured he could be forgiven the embarrassing victory dance he performed.

Much to the station guard's utter hilarity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akira is SUCH a fucking dweeb if you play him right. It's great. He's such a mess. And yeah, I'm not even going to deny that the majority of this fic is literally just guilty pleasure writing rn XDD


	5. Chapter 5

He was an utter dazed mess by he time he tottered back into Leblanc, dopey grin on his face. Soujiro took one look at him and actually laughed, setting the newspaper he had been occupying himself with while he had his date to one side, and heaving himself to his feet. Sat up to the counter, Futaba was sipping her coffee, texting frantically (which explained why his leg felt like it was going to vibrate itself to Okinawa with how it was going off), and breathing deeply to calm her nerves now that the place was empty, the pompous customer having left halfway through Akira and Harii's date with some snide comment about teenagers and pointless romance.

Akira paused in the midst of checking his phone, arching an eyebrow at the comments Futaba had put into the group chat about how Harii was too nice for him and they had to protect him from Akira. Ann was pissed that he hadn't told them he was having a date that day, Ryuji was caps-locking about how there was no WAY that the picture Futaba had sent them of the 'hot girl' was really a dude, for real! Yusuke was musing about how Harii would make a fine subject for a painting while Makoto wondered if Akira was really 'that way inclined?'. He almost wanted to interject and ask her what exactly she meant but the chat was practically blowing up as Futaba demanded they form a protection league. He snorted in amusement, ruffling her hair as he got closer, making the girl squawk and try to hide her phone.

“I see I don't have to worry after Futaba's virtue anymore,” the older man observed in good humour as he began his usual closing up routines.

“Soujiro!” the girl in question whined in horror as she looked up from her phone in betrayal, making him chuckle.

Akira frowned at Boss, he had wanted to check the meta-nav app's Confidant information to make sure his date with Harii had gone well, and so he could grin goofily at the cute caricature portrait, but.... really?

“That... was actually a concern? About _me?_ ” he asked, inexplicably stung by the Boss's lack of faith. He knew he had a criminal record but – really?

Soujiro rubbed the back of his neck, giving him an apologetic side-glance, “Well... you _were_ the one that saved her,” he pointed out slowly, not hearing Futaba's quiet grumble of saving herself, even if Akira did help. A little.

He tipped his head from side to side, turning the thought over. He.... guessed he could understand that line of thinking but... “It would feel too much like taking advantage of her,” he stated firmly. And it would have been. He was possibly the first boy close to her age to speak kindly to her in the _years_ since her mother died and she shut herself away, battling depression, anxiety, trauma, and then later her distorted cognition. He stole her heart. He didn't want to manipulate her any further by stealing her chance to discover herself, and make her own decisions about her future and where that took her. He already felt the lingering hooks of guilt and self-doubt about even allowing her to be a member of the Phantom Thieves. She felt so unbelievably young to him, no doubt due to her lack of social skill, but even Yusuke hadn't immediately made him want to step between him and the world at large until he figured out how to behave like a functional human being (not that he needed to. Yusuke was unique, and fine as he was. Just like Futaba).

The meta-nav chimed, and he saw an alert ping next to Soujiro's Hierophant.

Hierophant Rank up, huh? Akira fought not to smirk at the man as he grunted in approval and quickly turned to the washing up, gruffly telling him to get to bed as he had school tomorrow and today had been pretty busy for him, and then told Futaba to go home because it was getting dark and he didn't want her wondering around while there were weirdos in the shadows. What a softie.

He chuckled to himself as he climbed the creaking stairs, listening to the fifteen year old girl objecting stringently to being sent back home like a misbehaving kid, thumbing through Soujiro's rank before switching to Harii's with greedy eagerness, smiling stupidly at the black and white ink-drawing of him in the same outfit as when he first saw him at Crossroads, the day the bond was forged.

**Potter Harry  
** _The assistant barman of Crossroads. He has offered to help Morgana regain human form._  
 **Rank 1:  
Rank 2: **Lucky Kiss- temporarily boosts the chances of increasing your next encountered confidant bond/pursued social stat.  
 _“He knows nothing about the Phantom Thieves, but is seemingly aware of the metaverse. He has offered to research a means to help Morgana regain his human form, and in the process begun to return your affections – somewhat._ ”

Rank two ability was _Lucky Kiss_?! Did that mean he could get more of them?

' _return your affections – somewhat_ ' _**SUCCESS**_

He flopped into bed with a quiet sigh of victory.

 

* * *

 

When he finally dropped into sleep, it wasn't pleasant dreams of his date, or Harii, that greeted him, but the Velvet room and the verbally abusive little gremlins that called themselves wardens. He grumbled, resisting the urge to get up in order to see what Igor wanted – he wanted sweet dreams of a certain pretty boy, damnit. Not an old geezer who looked like the smell of mothballs and missed his calling in life to work at a mortuary.

“What's _that_ look for, Inmate?!” Caroline barked, as always, managing to make the word 'inmate' sound like an insult.

Ugh. This was so not his kink.

Reluctantly, he dragged himself to the bars of his cell to eye the inhuman profile of his host as he chuckled, some strange gleam in his eye as he studied him through the strange too bright-too dark ambience of the room. “Such strange bonds your forge,” the man observed at length. “Time will tell whether or not this one will benefit you as the others have done,” he observed ominously, immediately making Akira want to scowl at him – it was the ease of experience and recent practice since coming to Shujin that allowed him to suppress all sign of his displeasure at the doubts he cast on Harii.

“Rise and shine, Inmate!” Caroline suddenly commanded, smashing her whip against the bars and threatening to flay one of his knuckles if he didn't jerk back just in time.

“It is time to return to the waking world,” Justine confirmed placidly.

 

* * *

 

Igor sucked, the Velvet Room sucked, and he didn't have any pleasant dreams about Harii – and instead woke up feeling distinctly lethargic and grumpy as he got ready for another day of doing not an awful lot. At least until his phone pinged with a message from Ann telling them all to meet up at Leblanc because she and Makoto had some vital final training for Futaba.

Part of him kind of wanted to skip though. Skip and try to find out where Harii was working for a day-job.

However, he knew better. Ann was a force of nature who would give him hell if he ditched out of a meeting without a good reason. Well, she'd probably say his trying to find Harii was a good enough one because she was a romantic, but Makoto would absolutely not approve. Not to mention Morgana would be coming with Ann as well, and Akira wanted to make sure he was alright after spending the night with his crush.

He made a trip to the bathhouse to get cleaned up, changed, and then came back in time to eat a small breakfast just before Yusuke arrived – what he didn't eat of his breakfast went to his starving artist of a friend. Along with the pity curry that Soujiro made him when he heard the slender teenager's stomach whine plaintively for something more. Ryuji followed not long after, and Futaba rushed through the cafe and immediately up to his room in order to avoid the unknown customers she didn't want to deal with. Neither Ann nor Makoto arrived with any particular haste. In fact, it was almost lunch-time before the two arrived with Morgana tucked into Ann's bag immediately slipping free to rejoin him with... not _quite_ wounded pride, but definitely relief.

“We visited Shiho-san,” the feline confided as the girls kicked him out of his own room in order to try on swimsuits for their trip to the beach. “She's.... very nice. I'm glad she and Ann are happy together,” Morgana admitted, still sounding upset.

Akira winced a little internally as he reached over to scratch at his head, offloading Morgana onto Ann so soon after he learned that her heart could never belong to him had been cruel and tactless. And now he was upset, and it was Akira's fault. He had been selfish.

“We'll pick up some sushi later tonight,” he murmured, deciding that unless anyone called him that he would devote his evening to being a good friend to Morgana.

After the girls were finished, they hung out for a bit only to disperse after a while, no one having any plans beyond the meeting about Futaba's rehabilitation and then planning out their beach trip. They ate lunch at Leblanc, chattering and laughing with Soujiro and Futaba, Ann grilling all three of them about Akira's date, before they went their separate ways. Akira made good on his mental promise to take care of Morgana and stepped out to get some sushi for him, the best he could do right now was regular store-bought, but he knew the feline wouldn't mind.

He chuckled quietly to himself as Morgana quickly jumped off the shelf that he had been curled up moping on and started practically dancing around his feet, demanding his sushi with what was almost literal stars in his eyes. While his friend stuffed himself on decent, but still cheap, store-bought sushi he settled down at his work-table and got some lockpicks made up for their next venture into Mementos or a palace, and then got started on his summer homework once he felt he'd made enough.

It was just as he was contemplating his English homework, and wondering exactly what the difference between the slang term for 'pants' and 'trousers' were, and why it was important, when his phone went off.

**Ohya:** I'm having some trouble.... with Kayo's case.  
And I'm not sure how to handle it.... Could we talk?

He stared at the messages with a rising feeling of concern, Harii had mentioned off hand while they were talking yesterday that Ohya-san was barely keeping herself above water-level with all of her quotas, they had been doubled again after the last incident with her boss. She and Lala had probably talked themselves in absolute circles, and Harii wasn't well connected enough in Japan to have any idea of how their legal system worked, though he kind of had a churning gut impression that the foreigner wouldn't have a problem being decidedly proactive about getting physical for a friend. That could be bad.And not just because he was tiny and likely to get hurt, though the idea of it happening filled him with dread.

**Akira:** I'll be there.  
 **Ohya:** I'll be waiting at the bar in Shinjuku then.

Morgana was immediately just as concerned for the reporter when Akira mentioned she'd asked him to swing around, licking his chops of rice and fish and immediately climbing into his bag, commanding that they go to her aid because that was what _gentlemen_ did! He smiled a little as he grabbed his wallet and keys, glad that his furry friend had perked up, or was at least suitably distracted for now.

No one gave him a second glance in Shinjuku again, he waved absently at Eiko as she took a smoking break with her boyfriend, she didn't notice him, neither did the Host that had Makoto so wound up and wary as he sweet-talked the schoolgirl. Akira wrinkled his nose but did nothing, such relationships were _frowned_ on, but she was sixteen, legal age and all that. And besides, it wasn't like the public at large would look favourably on his relationship with Harii either, what with him being both a man, foreign, and a crossdresser.

Crossroads was quiet as he stepped in, disappointingly there was no sign of Harii. Just Lala-san and Ohya at the bar and an atmosphere that was far too dark for a place he had come to associate with teasing laughter, snarky quips, and bright smiles.

Ohya couldn't even muster a smile to greet him as he slid into his usual seat, only raising her glass in acknowledgement before she chucked it back and slid it over to Lala for a refill, looking defeated and upset.

“It's no use,” she said once the glass was refilled, “All my connections who knew where Kayo was are gone, thanks to the chief and my publisher....” she trailed off in defeated exhaustion. Akira grimaced, looking down at his hands. He wanted to comfort her but he honestly didn't know what to say, or how to help her. “....Well, say something,” the woman told him softly, clearly hoping for _something_ that would drag her out of her fugue.

He had nothing.

“So... I have this pet cat....” he offered, trying to think of a story that would amuse her but not get him Morgana's wrath later.

“Huh...? You're a cat person? That's a bummer, I like dogs myself,” she admitted slowly before sighing and slumping again, “Pulling these consecutive all-nighters is really wearing me down.”

Lala shook her head angrily, “At this rate you're going to work yourself to death. You've been meeting your quota, right?”

“Of course!” Ohya snapped, slapping a hand on the bar, “They'll fire me if I show any signs of weakness! The chief... really wants me to mess up, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. Haha...” Her attempt at a brazen laugh fell flat with the sheer exhaustion in her voice as she stared down at the wood darkly.

Lala clawed her fingers through the air, as if she'd have liked nothing more than to rake them down someone's face, “He's like some kinda tyrant,” she decided darkly.

“Tell me about it,” Ohya grunted as she took a sip of her drink. “It's a race to see whether I can find Kayo before he crushes me...”

“That's not good,” Lala said grimly, “Shouldn't you do something about the chief before you keep chasing Kayo-chan's case?”

The young woman shook her head, “There's nothing I can do about a guy like that. He's rotten to the core. And despite how he acts, the higher-ups like him. I have no one to go to. It's over,” she admitted, her voice wavering slightly.

“Yeah, he's not the type of guy whose going to change,” Lala decided, looking at him for some reason, her expression serious. “What do you think?”

That was a no brainer. Ohya-san was going to be crushed under her ever increasing quota at this rate, or suffer a complete breakdown, the situation had to change but there was nothing that he _personally_ could do that wouldn't make the situation worse – unless....

“Ughhh, I'm gunna die,” Ohya groaned, flopping over the bar.

“What's the chief's name?” he asked plainly.

She rolled her head to look at him warily, “Why? You gunna try to find his weakness?” she joked half-seriously. “It's Honjo Shinpei. I heard that he's a good husband, and he used to cover economic foreign policy.... I hope it's just me overthinking things, but.... he's seen your face, you know.” She looked at him earnestly, worry lining her expression, “Don't go trying anything heroic,” she pleaded.

Lala nodded, “She's saying this for your own good. Got it, kid? Harii-chan would never forgive me if you went and got yourself in trouble,” she warned.

Ohya laughed properly for the first time since he showed up, “He was like an angry kitten! All puffed up and defensive whenever I asked about your date! Kept refusing to tell me anything because I said I'd publish a story about it!”

Akira smirked at her, “Want the deets?” he asked slyly in an effort to cheer her up.

“Hell yes, damnit! I need to hear _something_ good happening, even if its happening to someone else!” she exclaimed with a pumped fist.

 

* * *

 

“So, we're going after her awful boss next, right?” Morgana asked as they took the late night train back to Shibuya, “Good. A man like that? He needs to have his heart changed. Maybe he'll even _help_ Ohya-san find Kayo-chan when he realises the error of his ways.”

“Hopefully,” Akira agreed as he sent a text to the others about a trip to Mementos tomorrow. He received agreements across the board from everyone except Makoto who, at this time of night, was asleep with her phone on silent. She would see the chat tomorrow morning and send her agreement or denial.

Japan was a surprisingly small place.

He almost didn't believe his eyes, or his luck, when he spotted Harii as he changed train platforms and saw the foreigner laden down with bags as he made his way to the JL line that Akira had just left in order to head up towards Shinjuku. Did that mean he lived in Shinjuku?

“Harii-chan!” he called, sliding through the evening commuters to catch up to the long haired boy who turned at the sound of his voice.

“Akira, hi, what are you doing out so late?” he asked curiously as he shifted to the side and came to a stop where they wouldn't get in anyone's way.

“Ohya-san asked me to pay her a visit. I was just on my way back. Yourself?” he asked as Morgana peered out of his bag in order to give his own greeting to the foreigner. No pretty kimono today, just long hair in a loose tail, glasses, and familiar baggy clothes that... well. He himself was somewhat more fond of skinny-fit clothing, he didn't understand the urge to dress oneself in what was basically a tent. It made Harii look smaller and almost doll-like though, so... strangely enough he was kind of into it. He looked cute.

“Food shopping,” the foreigner explained, “And getting some more notebooks for Morgana's project. Studying the Animagus transformation usually takes years,” he explained lightly with a careless shrug.

“Years?” the cat demanded in dismay.

Harii nodded, “Mm, I can't say how long it would take a fully qualified wizard, but my Dad was supposed to be gifted in Transfiguration and it took him.... About five years I think.... Give or take, but he was also doing it in secret and doing other lessons at the same time,” he explained soothingly with a small smile, “It shouldn't take that long, Morgana. I'm not looking to _do_ the transformation, only reverse it. It'll take a lot less time.”

The founder of the Phantom Thieves let out a sigh of relief, while Akira nodded thoughtfully. “Can you tell me more?” he asked curiously before he took a look at the bags, “I'll help carry those.”

“I can carry my own shopping,” the foreigner told him coolly with a raise of his eyebrow. Ah, it took him a moment to wonder what caused that reaction before guessing that Harii probably thought he was being looked down on.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he answered honestly, watching as the other teenager's cheeks pinked and he flustered a little. Even without being dressed up it was still cute to see.

“Alright. But I can't tell you much of anything until we get somewhere private. I shouldn't talk about these things in public,” he explained as he held a bag out. Akira nodded with a small smile as he collected it, only a little surprised by the weight – it was heavier than he expected.

The two of them made their way to the JL line carrying the shopping between them and got on the next train, “Don't bother sitting down, I'm only a few stops from here,” Harii assured him as they set the bags down.

“Really? Where abouts?” Akira asked curiously as the train smoothly departed from Shibuya.

“Harajuku. I'm about a fifteen minute walk away from the station. Lala-san's apartment isn't too far away from me either,” he explained.

“How do you like Harajuku?”

Harii wrinkled his nose a little, “It's.... a bit busy for my liking. Lots of other foreigners pass through, I don't really like going to the main high-streets to be honest,” he admitted unhappily, “Thankfully the internet cafe I work at during the day is fairly dark and very few come in.”

“Do you not like your fellow countrymen?” Morgana asked curiously, climbing out of Akira's bag to rest his chin on the second year student's shoulder before he could ask.

“I... may have... run... away from home,” Harii admitted slowly in an undertone, not looking at them, “My aunt and uncle wouldn't care, they threw me out to begin with. But my friends, my school, my godfather, they're probably kicking up an unholy racket to try and find me. I just... I don't want to be found. Not yet. There's things I need to sort out before I can go back,” he explained slowly, leaning against the train door behind him.

“What things?” Akira asked, trying to swallow back the sting of conflicting emotions. Harii planned to leave Japan? He was actually a _runaway?_ And he ran all the way from _England_ to _Japan_ successfully and without anyone noticing?! Not friends, nor family, or even the _government_? That was definitely suspicious. Did he use the metaverse to do it? Why... why bother with _him_ if he planned on leaving eventually?

“You haven't reached a high enough lev- ” Harii cut himself off, the wry smile falling off his mouth as he got a look at whatever expression must have been on Akira's face. He grimaced and looked down, “...It's... really personal, Akira. And it isn't pleasant. My story. I... don't really want you to think differently of me either, to be honest. It's been nice just... being Harry.”

A boy who was thrown out by his Aunt and Uncle, meaning he didn't live with his parents to start with, who decided that running away to _Japan_ instead of staying with his friends, or his godfather, whom he just admitted would try to find him, was his best option, who resorted to crossdressing and living in an apartment with a shitty landlord who kept illegally raising the rent, whose teacher could turn into a cat, might be connected to the metaverse, and now said that his story was very unpleasant and very personal, and connected to why he didn't want to go back home _yet_.

He shifted a little closer, making him look up even as he pressed a hand against the small of his back and ducked his head, making the small space between them intimate and private, “I want to know you. Good and bad.”

Harii stared at him, very obviously debating his answer.

“...Alright. When we get back to mine. I'll... tell you everything. I don't know why.... but I feel like I can trust you, Akira,” he admitted slowly, staring up at him with devastating green eyes behind those ugly coke-bottle glasses, “Don't make me regret it.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my actual fuck. The last two weeks have literally been out to get me so you're getting this updated because it's the only fic I actually had something already written for. I have been horrifically sick for the uninformed, which is why my updates on other fics died out. I hope to pick it back up, but in the meanwhile, please have this self-indulgent cuteness.
> 
> Oh! While I was sick I also hit upon a new P5/HP fic idea which I've already started working on.
> 
> Da Capo al Fine: an Italian musical term that means "from the beginning" (literally, "from the head"). Repeat from beginning to the end. When Lavenza offered him the chance to play again, to take it all back, and then some, Akira agreed, determined to do better, to write the wrongs he had been too weak or too ignorant to the first time. But finds things going wildly off-track as new Confidants appear and his choices change, new targets, new Palaces, a new 'Detective Prince' from another country, new TEAMMATES?!


	6. Chapter 6

Despite its size, Harii's flat was actually nicer than the attic at Leblanc. Or rather, he kept it cleaner – there was only so much he could do with a room like that, okay? His futon was propped up on milk-crates for kami's sake.

Still, he was a good host, making tea for them both, and setting out a few snacks on a tray on the floor, asking Morgana if he preferred a cup or a bowl before providing what he asked for. He even spread out his futon so they would have something soft to sit on, something Morgana thoroughly approved of if the way he immediately nestled himself in the duvet with a pleased purr, declaring loudly that it smelt really nice.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, sipping their drinks, Akira giving Harii-chan the time he needed to gather his thoughts, or his courage. Morgana actually fell asleep, cute little kitty snores filling the room and drawing a fond look from Harii-chan as he peered around Akira's back.

Then, “I would say it started with my parents murder, but really, it's a lot bigger than that,” Harii-chan finally spoke, nearly making him drop his drink as he turned to stare at him. He shrugged, catching the glance, “They were police officers, part of a task force hunting down a terrorist back in the day. When my mother fell pregnant, they went into hiding. It wasn't long after I was born that their location was leaked and the terrorist came for us.” He shrugged his shoulder again as he turned to stare down at his tea, “I was really little. I only remember bits and pieces. My dad fought him downstairs, to buy mum time to get me and get out. But he was unarmed. Mum... she begged him to kill her, to leave me alone and take her instead. He killed her, and then something happened, I just remember a green light. Apparently the house blew up.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Akira found himself saying with numb lips, completely at a loss as to what to actually fucking say.

Harii shrugged again, “I didn't know them. I'm... more upset that I lost the opportunity than I am at the fact I actually lost _them_. I ended up being offloaded onto my aunt and uncle, they hated me. I was eleven when my school came for me, my parents had already put my name down for it when I was born. But it turns out the terrorist that killed my parents was still alive and kicking, just in hiding, trying to gather strength. For _years_ I did what I could to stop him. But when I was fourteen, my senpai and I were abducted from school, he was killed, and the terrorist was able to use a ritual to regain his strength, and summon his followers properly. I barely managed to get away, but when I warned people, they didn't believe me.

“That summer, my cousin and I were attacked. I used my abilities, and because of that, I was expelled from school. My uncle thought I'd attacked my cousin and threw me out. He wanted to kill me, so I ran. I ran, and I used my inheritance to get the hell out of the country, to come here. I got a flat, I got a job, and... I've been trying to stay under the radar since. Funnily enough, the crossdressing made that easier,” he admitted as he set his tea down and spread his hands, “And that's that. That's my story. Everyone around me dies, or gets hurt. My parents were murdered. My classmate was murdered. I was expelled. Got myself thrown out. And ran for Japan.”

Akira stared down at his drink unsure of what to say, or really what to think as the silence around them stretched.

“....If.... you want to call this off, Akira, I – ” Harii began, trying to sound reassuring but in the end only sounding hurt and vulnerable, dousing his body in a metaphorical cold chill even as he practically shoved his cup on the tray and turned to face Harii.

“Absolutely not,” he refused firmly.

“I – ”

“Come here,” he practically ordered, glaring at his crush even as he reached out to wrap an arm around him and drag him over. Harii came unresistingly, but clearly too bewildered and now suddenly nervous to really try pulling away as he was bundled up between the Japanese boy's long lanky limbs. He was so small, and thin, he barely weighed anything and now that he had his arms around him, he felt even thinner than Futaba-chan did. The kind of thinness that came from not eating and working too much. Different because Futaba was well fed and cared for, despite never going anywhere. He buried his face into Harii's hair and gave him a squeeze, firmly deciding that if no one was going to take care of Harii, then he would. “I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not going to call this off unless you want me to. Do you want me to?” he asked quietly.

Harii didn't answer for a long time, and it felt like a hand was slowly crushing his chest.

“It... would be safer for you,” the foreigner admitted, “He's not going to stop hunting me, ever.” Harii gripped his shirt sleeves tightly, knuckles bleaching white as he leaned into Akira's chest, hard. “It would be safer.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the anxiety that filled him ebb away. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

It wasn't a yes.

“But you don't want to,” he stated, and felt Harii shake against him.

Fuck it. He'd either get a slap or cement his determination to be in Harii-chan's life. He used one hand to cup the foreigner's cheek, angling his face towards him, and kissed him full on the mouth.

He didn't intend to take it any further than just a simple kiss, but it was... easy... as Harii opened his mouth in surprise just to... keep kissing him, to taste the inside of his mouth. As easy as it had been on the way to Leblanc when he kissed the side of his head and wrapped an arm around him. So easy, natural even. As though it were something that they should already be doing. Thin arms come up around him, gripping at his top even as he pulled away, just to get a better angle and kiss him again, Harii leaning into his attention eagerly, mouth soft, wet, and warm as they kissed.

It wasn't until Morgana snorted sleepily about tuna that the two froze, not quite sure how they ended up sprawled backwards on the futon with Akira ontop of Harii, their shirts rucked up, and Harii at least with the button of his jeans undone in Akira's hand.

The two jolted away from one another, blushing hard as they quickly put themselves to rights.

Akira scrubbed a hand through his hair, embarrassed and annoyed with himself in equal parts, he shouldn't have let that get as far as it did. He had only meant it to be comforting, not... not _that_. He needed to work on being kinder, because that was not very kind to Harii-chan, practically overwhelming him like that especially when he was emotionally vulnerable. Just how far would they have gone if Morgana hadn't reminded them of his existence?

“I am... sorry,” he choked out, “I shouldn't have – ” He froze as Harii laid a hand on his arm and gently pressed a kiss against his cheek.

“Don't be,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against the thief's, “I'm hardly some wilting wallflower, despite my Cinderella origins. If you want to take this further, make... make it official between us, I would... like that.”

Official, as in boyfriend official.

“Yes!” he blurted, loudly enough to jar Morgana awake if the startled yelp from the cat was any indication.

“What?! What is it?! What happened!” the littlest of the Phantom Thieves yelped, jumping to his feet as the two jerked away from each other, flushing darkly. “Eh? Did I.... miss something?” he asked warily, looking up at them with big blue eyes as Harii coughed into his hand a little and Akira flopped over melodramatically.

“Not much. Akira just agreed to be my boyfriend, that's all,” Harii said with forced lightness.

“About time,” Morgana quipped plainly as he sat back and gave his ear a quick scratch, “He's only been _mooning_ over you since you left the Beef Bowl place.”

Akira groaned, feeling his face burn even as Harii laughed in surprise.

 

* * *

 

They weren't able to spend much more time together, the last train to Yongen-Jaya would be leaving Shibuya soon, and somehow Akira didn't think that Sojirou would be quite as lenient about his late-night habits if he knew he was staying the night at his boyfriend's place. So, collecting the research notes that Harii provided for Morgana, they made their way back home (after Akira spent probably a little too long stealing sweet little kisses from him on the doorstep until Morgana popped out of his bag and told him to hurry it up or they'd miss the train).

Knowing that Ann would never forgive him unless he said something, he sent a single message into the groupchat, put his phone onto silent, and shoved it into his pocket, grinning as he felt it practically explode as the vibration notification went crazy.

**Joker:** Harii agreed to be my boyfriend.

 

* * *

 

**Potter Harry  
** _The assistant barman of Crossroads. He has offered to help Morgana regain human form._  
 **Rank 1:  
Rank 2: **Lucky Kiss- temporarily boosts the chances of increasing your next encountered confidant bond/pursued social stat.  
 **Rank 3:  
Rank 4:** Research Notes- a single use item that transforms a shadow immediately into a Persona but will banish it without items or EXP if you already possess it, are not high enough levelled, do not have a confidant of a matching arcana, or your list is full.   
**Rank 5:  
** _“Officially your boyfriend now. He is in hiding from his parents murderer and plans to return home to deal with him once and for all, but wishes to spend what remains of his time in Japan with you._ ”

Akira grinned down at Harii's caricature on his phone, the only picture he actually had of him – he should really work on fixing that. Still, going from Rank two to Rank five in an evening, that had to be a record. Not only that but his Charm had ranked up considerably as well according to his own profile on the app.

The group chat decided to ping then, followed rapidly by replies. He sighed a little, feeling Morgana jump onto the bed beside him and crawl under his arm to get a look at what was being discussed.

**Panther:** So I just met Harii-chan. He's coming to the beach with us and you're right Futaba-chan, he's totally too good for Joker.  
 **Oracle:** I know right?!  
 **Queen:** Ann!  
You can't just demand someone come out with us!  
 **Panther:** I asked him nicely!  
He was a bit surprised that I was talking to him, but when I told him I was Joker's friend he was super cool and friendly. I told him that since his boyfriend was trying to hog all of his attention he should come to the beach with us so that everyone else can meet him!  
 **Joker:** You might have just scared him off you know.  
 **Panther:** No I didn't! We even went shopping together! Seriously Joker, how did you land such a nice boyfriend?  
 **Joker:** My dashing good lucks and oozing charm.  
 **Panther:** …  
 **Queen:** …  
 **Oracle:** Oozing is right.

He snickered to himself as he closed the group chat, frowning a little at the metanav that was still open on its main-page, showing the improved rank from earlier that day when Akechi appeared, uninvited and unwelcome, into Leblanc for the first time and very nearly put Futaba into ripping his face off with her bare hands judging by how poorly he impressed her. Good girl. She had decent instincts. Harii wasn't the only suspicious potential metaverse user, but he was most _definitely_ prettier and less annoying than Akechi.

All at once he was seized with the desire to go and see him, steal a hundred kisses, and see where the evening took them, but Futaba's sudden interest in fireworks curtailed him.

It wasn't so bad, she was so excited, and it was too cute watching her flail around with them in the street outside Leblanc that he couldn't find it in himself to just leave. So, he stuck around, wrote his name in sparklers, showed Futaba what happened when you lit a whole packet at the same time, distracted Soujiro so he wouldn't see his daughter writing rude words or drawing genitalia in the air using her own sparklers. He didn't want to be accused of being a bad influence on her.

They didn't stay out too late, Ann had made arrangements to meet everyone early the next day so they could all catch the same train to the beach together, so it was not long before midnight that Soujiro ushered Futaba back to the house, and Akira took Morgana back into the cafe and began to pack a bag for the next day. Sunscreen, towel, shorts, goggles, snorkle (he didn't know what kind of beaches were around here, there might be some interesting stuff to see underwater), and a spare change of clothes. He also packed the kanzashi that Futaba had eventually returned to him, he might as well return them to Harii-chan tomorrow. He wondered if Harii would let him put them in this time?

Sleep came quickly despite the oppressive heat once he crawled into bed, and annoyingly he woke with the sun, a good half an hour ahead of his alarm as the light glared directly onto his face, tearing him out of a very pleasant dream that he couldn't completely remember, but definitely featured Harii. Thankfully he didn't have any problems, and Morgana was still dead to the world, so he must not have done or said anything weird in his sleep that required explaining.

He quickly got everything ready, stepped out to the bathhouse to scrape off the groody dry sweat from just _sleeping_ , grabbed breakfast, and then woke Morgana up just as Soujiro and Futaba showed up. Of course he ended up carrying Futaba's bags, and having to deal with a certain over-protective Coffee Dad's final instructions of how to protect his daughter (anyone attempting to hit on Futaba would have to get through Makoto first, but he wasn't about to tell Boss that the nice mild-mannered student council president was more likely to crack skulls than he was). The two made their way to the trainstation and stopped off at Shibuya where they met up with everyone at the underground pass at half-past eight.

The fact that he and Futaba were, in fact, the last ones to get there with everyone else already surrounding an amused but also slightly overwhelmed and uncomfortable Harii told him that it was deliberate, and everyone else had probably been told eight o'clock.

He huffed a little in irritated amusement as Ann caught sight of him approaching and laughed _loudly_ , announcing his arrival in a carrying voice that had the rest of the Phantom Thieves immediately scattering, expressions a mixture between sheepish, guilty, and alarmed. Everyone except Yusuke, of course, bless his socially oblivious soul.

“ – lovely bone structure,” the artist was saying, framing Akira's boyfriend between his fingers. “You would, of course, receive a percentage of the painting's sale price. Perhaps, say, three percent?” he offered mildly.

The head of the Phantom Thieves snorted in amusement as he swung his bag a little and bumped Yusuke with it from behind, “Steal your own man to model for you, this one's taken,” he teased, smiling at his friend to take the sting out of the rebuke.

“My hero,” Harii deadpanned with a slight smile of relief even as Yusuke began to complain about Akira being stingy regarding his models – first he wasn't allowed to pain Ann nude, and now Harii-san was off-limits? How was he to ever escape his artist's block when even his friends would place barriers before him?

Akira didn't hear a word as he slid an arm around Harii's back, “Hi,” he greeted, pleased at the way he immediately relaxed, no longer looking so defensive or uncomfortable.

“Hi yourself,” the foreigner returned, smiling.

It was entirely impossible for him not to dip down quickly and drop a kiss onto that smile, drawing gasps from the girls, and a squawk from Ryuji who immediately turned away, traffic light red, hiding his eyes.

“DUDE! WE'RE IN PUBLIC!” he protested, loudly. And then yelped in pain as Ann planted her knuckles into his side.

“Would you say anything if Harii-chan was a girl, eh, _Ryu-ji_?” she demanded with a smile and a voice full of venom.

“Dude! No! But – seriously! In front of everyone?!” the blond boy complained, looking betrayed. “Bro code, dude!”

Akira snorted as he shifted to stand behind Harii and rest his chin atop his head, “Only applies to _girlfriends_ ,” he pointed out lazily with a smirk.

“Don't you have both, technically?” Makoto asked curiously.

Harry wrinkled his nose a little, “No. I'm not trans. I just crossdress. I have no gender identity issues,” he stated firmly. He saw more than his fair-share of trans, non-binary, and fluid individuals coming in and out of Crossroads, and of course, professional okama, and other various drag-acts.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be offensive,” the brunette said nervously.

“You're fine,” Harii dismissed, “How are you going to find out unless you ask? I'd rather you get the right answer from me, than a wrong one from somewhere else.”

Makoto nodded, a smile of relief on her face as she brightened up, “I will do that, thank you, Harii-chan. You're very kind.”

Harii predictably went pink and scowled, muttering under his breath that he _really_ wasn't before Futaba started demanding they make a move before they missed the train to the beach.

 

* * *

 

When Harry had been shopping for some more food, his last lot having been... requisitioned for his landlord when he showed up unexpectedly and complained about how he had nothing to eat in his flat while glaring very meaningfully at him, he didn't expect to have a very pretty young lady practically ambush him as soon as he set foot outside the convini. It was the fact that she was so bright and bubbly, despite being very forward, that made him actually stop and listen to her. He was so tired that he had been in half a mind to just keep walking, thinking her to be another one of those troublemaker highschool girls who would try to gouge free make-up, clothes, and what not out of 'unpopular' looking boys (of which, he could admit, he definitely looked the part at that moment in time).

Finding out she was a friend of Akira's had been a surprise, he tried to be as nice as possible afterwards, not wanting her to carry tales back to him that he was horrible and a bastard. If Hermione had told him that someone he was interested in had been horrible to her then he would have dropped that person like Potions' class, no question.

Only, instead of anything untoward, she invited him to hang out the next day, stating that she'd known about him for a while but Akira was being selfish and hogging his attention so she was officially inviting him to join them at the beach, if he wanted to come, of course. She had been so hopeful and sweet that... even though he was exhausted, and had a shift later that night, he couldn't really say no. Besides, it would be nice to meet Akira's friends, especially if they were like Ann. The young girl had whirled him through the underground mall, gushing about what they planned to do, and asking if he had a swim suit, which he did not, and prompted even further shopping.

Uncertain of his welcome, but wanting to make a good impression, he splurged a little when he made a second stop at the convini on his way home, and collected a little bit more food, and stayed up late that night to make enough bento for everyone. Hopefully it would taste alright. He had been forced to get a lot of Japanese cook books when he first arrived and his Landlord started invading and demanding feeding. Back then his rent hadn't been so bad, and the guy seemed nice enough considering how Harry didn't have any legal papers to stay, so he figured why not? If he knew it would mean the man let himself in whenever he pleased to lounge around and demand to be waited on, he might not have been so.... hospitable.

Now, here he was, pressed against a wall, Futaba under one arm, with his boyfriend shielding the both of them from the tightly packed train heading to the beach. Ann had managed to snag a seat, and had Makoto perched in her lap while Ryuji and Yusuke stood guard over their little stack of bags and beach chairs – apparently Ryuji's mother loved going to the beach when he was younger and let him borrow the two sunloungers and the inflatable pool rings for this little trip.

“I've never been to the beach,” Futaba jittered, fidgeting with her hair, “Will it be crowded?” she asked nervously.

“Probably,” Akira admitted even as he slid a hand up Harry's waist, fingers slipping up his shirt to find skin.

He fought the urge to squirm away, mainly because there was no where to go, hyper aware of the taller boy's fingers as they began to gently rub circles around his hip. “I've never been to the beach either, Futaba-chan. We can figure it out together,” he assured the younger girl with a small smile. She swallowed and nodded earnestly, even as Ryuji peered over Akira's shoulder.

“What the eff, man? I thought England was, like, mostly beaches? It's an island, right?” he asked in complete confusion.

Harry grimaced, “We don't exactly have beaches. It's usually _cliffs_ and _rocks_. There's a couple of nice ones, supposedly, around Cornwall. Perranporth is supposed to be good, Whitsand Bay was my aunt's preferred place because there was a fancy hotel and a golf-course near by. But, I never went. Most seasides are stoney, gravel, shingles, or tidal rock-pools with a lot of sea weed. Actual sandy beaches are a bit rare. Uh, I think they imported a lot of sand around Brighton just to attract tourists.” Not to mention England got too bloody cold for beach trips eighty-percent of the year, not that it stopped a lot of people. Shirts typically came off the second the temperatures went over twenty degrees around Surrey, and since he spent most of the year in Scotland where they huddled in winter cloaks and scarves in the classrooms and warmed their hands on their potions' cauldrons, beach weather was something alien to him. He was already hot and uncomfortable and they hadn't even gotten there yet.

The beach, when they finally arrived, was, as predicted, _packed_ with people.

Harry gripped his bags as everyone separated and went into their respective gendered changing rooms, it was almost surreal for him to look across a beach and not see a single person with a tattoo. Knowing that they generally signified yakuza connections explained why, but it was still surreal for him because... well, tattoos were a cultural heritage thing in England. There was absolutely no taboo there despite the church's best efforts to advertise it negatively, the old ways of the Picts and the Celts with their tattoos and wode body paint ensured that the practice never really died out.

“Dude....” Ryuji hissed at him, making him pause, shirt in hand, and look at him. The blond was staring at his chest in shock, and a little horror. “What _happened_ to you?” he 'whispered', _loudly_ , drawing both Yusuke and Akira over, the two freezing when they caught sight of the shoulder to hip scar that decorated Harry's chest from the First Task.

The Gryffindor shrugged, “School sports accident when I was fourteen,” he fibbed, fingering it carefully, “School Nurse did what she could but....” He shrugged again and folded his shirt to be put into his bag, only to have his arm pulled out suddenly, “Ow! Hey!” Ah. Yeah. _That_ scar.

Akira's face was twisted into something fearful and hurt as he ran featherlight fingertips down his forearm, down the long thick roping scar that Wormtail had left on his forearm barely two months before he fled into Japan.

“It's not what you think,” he stated firmly, catching his hand, “Sometimes.... Sometimes he caught up, the guy that killed my parents. I didn't try to kill myself, I promise,” he swore, squeezing his fingers.

“And this?” Yusuke asked curiously, peering at his bicep, “This looks remarkably as though it were poisoned,” he stated, pointing to the bite mark the Basilisk left on him when he was twelve.

He was beginning to feel a little hunted right now, “That's because it was,” he admitted tightly, uncomfortable as Ryuji continued to stare at him in abject bewilderment and confusion, Yusuke once again studying him like something he would like to dissect (learning he was an artist only _mildly_ assuaged his fears of ending up with body parts in pickle jars). But it was Akira's reaction that made him feel the most self conscious, he had a very complicated look on his face that Harry couldn't even _begin_ to make sense of, but knew he didn't like.

“Damn. Okay, hold on, man. I got an idea,” the blond suddenly declared before grabbing his wallet from his bag and then tearing out of the changing rooms.

“What's the big problem?” he found himself asking, his voice sounding small even to his own ears, “They're _just_ scars.”

“They are the mark of a history of violence,” Yusuke declared poetically, leaning back as he folded his arms, “To think one with such a lovely face would have such a dark past.”

Harry stared at him for a moment, “Everyone has scars,” he pointed out flatly.

“But not like that,” Morgana said as he wriggled out of Akira's bag, “I don't quite get it either, but people will probably think you're some kind of unmarked Yakuza or a delinquent because you have so many.”

Harry sighed, “And that'll make them look at you guys badly too.” He'd been in Japan long enough to have figured out the social stigmas and how it tended to stick to people and groups like bad smells. He sighed as he rubbed his arm, covering Wormtail's scar, just another way he ruined his life, “I... shouldn't have come...” he muttered.

“Yes. How dare you. How dare you want to spend time with your boyfriend and his friends. How could you, you monster,” Akira deadpanned, just a tad bit sharply even as he, too quickly for Harry to move away, flicked the tip of his nose. “Screw what other people think. I don't care about them. Just you. You and the others. They can think what they like, none of it is true, so it doesn't matter.”

If only it were that easy, the Gryffindor thought sadly.

“Alright! I'm back!” Ryuji exclaimed as he burst back in, a bag in hand, “Here y'go, Fox, work your magic!” he declared as he thrust the bag at their resident artist.

The black haired boy took it with a curious hum as he peered in, “...Body paint?”

Ryuji nodded, grinning wildly, “Yeah! It's waterproof an' everything. Needs hot water and soap t'come off. You paint Harii-chan up with it, hide all those scars, and this way he can enjoy the beach with us and people'll just think its some new teen fad! Heck, you can paint me too, I'm down for it.”

Yusuke pulled out the tin of forest green paint with a perturbed look on his face, “Painting... skin?” he muttered to himself.

“Yeah,” Ryuji stated, “C'mon, what's skin but just another kinda canvas, am I right?”

“Indeed... What _is_ skin but just another canvas! What a magnificent thought! I had never considered such a thing before!” the artist exclaimed in excitement, his eyes lighting up as he looked over his friends with new consideration, and appreciation.

Harry stared at the maniacal glint in his eyes, and the bag of body paints in his hand, and tried not to immediately turn on heel and start running like Fluffy was after him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter finished. I think I may have just started Yusuke down the path of becoming a tattoo artist as well lol
> 
> Please don't rag on Makoto for not understanding LGBTA+ stuff, Japan has an incredibly indirect culture about these sorts of things, and unless you're directly involved or connected to certain social aspects it's unlikely you will ever learn much about them. She'll learn.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please advise me on tags that should be added


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